


Feathers and Flesh Reborn.

by SheWasACemeteryStargazer



Category: Avatar (Swedish Band), Voltaire (Musician) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Avatar Country, Black Waltz, Cannibalism, Dark Past, Death, Dreams, Feathers and Flesh, Fluff, Gore, Hail the Apocalypse, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I swear there’s fluff somewhere in this, If you are a member or friend of the band Avatar please don’t read this fic I apologize profusely, Implied Non-Con, I’m sorry, M/M, Memory, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nightmares, Pets, Post-Apocalypse, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Self-Harm, Shared Dreams, Slavery, Suicide Attempt, Try squinting a little, Violence, War, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-03-12 17:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWasACemeteryStargazer/pseuds/SheWasACemeteryStargazer
Summary: With the occurrence of the icy Apocalypse, the world was forced into darker, bleaker times. In a frozen land resembling somewhere in collapsed Europe, a sinister freakshow travels from place to place and sells its pets to the wealthy and curious. Among these God-forsaken creatures is the Owl, a creature trying to keep hold of his humanity as he dreams of kinder fates outside his prison...where will he end up after this hell? Is there hope beyond the horror?





	1. If You Don't Want Us To Live, Please Let Us Die.

_The Owl peers out from slatted walls_

_A young Wolf weeps, a Raven calls_

_Once elegant creatures, now tender prey_

_Encaged another long, dreadful day._

 

There was something wicked about the travelling caravan. It was uncommon to see many vehicles on the road under the dark starless skies, but now a single line of rusting steel trailers cut across the frozen, barren wasteland, their dreary exteriors decorated with garish gold and crimson script. The paint was worn and peeling, but through the filth and decay, one could barely read

_House of Eternal Abandon: Potions, Pets, and Peculiarities_

Since the Apocalypse, survivors had been forced to adapt. There were no longer the complex statuses and roles of the old world- there was simply the strong and the weak, and all rules were decided by the strong. It was the scientific order of the universe finally taking charge again, Mother Nature declaring her dominance above all by handing control to her strongest and cruelest children.

_Nature is an unkind but fair Mother._

The Owl understood this well- perhaps even better than the other creatures. He sat in silence in his cage, listening to the crunching of whirling tires over miserable snow and the quiet whimpers of the other pets, locked away safely in the back of the large truck. They were all doomed to the same fate- they were weak, and they would be sold and traded among the strong. The Owl had seen so many kind creatures brought in and then taken away...he didn’t like to think about where they went after this circle of hell. Still, others of them died from starvation or cold, and he couldn’t help but consider them to be the lucky ones.

The Owl, however...he was cursed.

He had been a part of the travelling freakshow’s pet collection for several years. Many had gazed upon his cage, but neither Master nor Death had claimed him yet. He feared the rejection of all would mean an eternal stay in this Purgatory, and yet he understood that worse fates could still await him outside of here...he’d settled into this dread, and wasn’t certain he was ready to face a new hell.

_“Henrik…?”_

_“Shh.”_

_“Sorry…Raven, I mean. I…I’d really like to hear another one of your poems.”_

_“I’ve already said too much tonight, Wolf…you know we’re not allowed to speak, don’t you?”_

_“Yes, but-“_

_“And they will kill us both if they catch us. Do you understand?”_

_“…Yes.”_

_“Soon…after our next stop. I’ll tell you another poem. Promise.”_

_“Okay…thanks.”_

The Owl listened to the whispered exchange from the two cages across from him. The Raven had always been so kind to the fearful pets, whispering poems and lines of song when they were left alone by their wicked owners. He appeared to be one of the younger creatures, collected several months before, and the Owl couldn’t help but wonder if the other would stay around as long as he had. It was vaguely comforting to think he might not be the only one left to rot away in the House of Eternal Abandon for all time.

The wind howled outside as they continued onward towards unknown destinations. There was no way to measure the passage of time, and the Owl curled up, drawing his knees to his chest as he decided to sleep. There was no reason to try to stay awake now- nothing good waited for him within the bars of his prison or outside the cold metal doors of their transportation.

The Owl closed his eyes and dreamed of vultures circling the gloomy skies. They swept down to pluck out his eyes and tongue with sharp, curved beaks, and they nested in his pale, scarred arms. Feathers rested among flesh and long, tangled blond hair, and the Vultures screeched and cried over their victim…they pitied what the Owl had become, but they couldn’t help but hunger for his skin.

Wings flittered and talons tore into muscle and sinew.

The Owl shivered as he dreamt and wished Death upon himself yet again.

 

*****

 

The screeches of the Owl’s dreams awoke him, merging with the whine of the brakes willing the large trailer to pull to a stop across icy ground. The pets were thrown within their cages, and the air became alive with the scent of terror. They knew what was going to happen next.

Several agonizing seconds passed, blending into horrific minutes. The young Wolf was crying on the floor of his cage, not as brave as the older Wolf who had been captured and sold weeks before him. The Raven watched solemnly, still within his confinement as the other pets stirred- some trying to hide, others trying to escape. The Eagle’s fingertips bled as he clawed at the lock that held him in, and the Bear growled, lowering to the floor of his crate as he heard the latch on the door being undone.

Then silence fell upon the creatures as they all held their breath, willing themselves to go unseen.

Two sets of heavy footsteps trailed down the center aisle, shadows shifting across the rows of metal enclosures. The pets recognized the familiar scent of their owner first- tobacco and stale sweat- mingling with a new and alarming scent of the second visitor…blood.

Most of the pets averted their gaze or closed their eyes, though the Owl looked on quietly, head held high as he faced down his fears. The Raven did not turn away, either, the Owl observed, and then they were watching each other instead of their predators, still waiting to exhale. The Owl was better able to study the details of the Raven’s face with light filtering in from the open door- bright blue eyes partly hidden behind waves of dark-dyed hair with pale blond roots fading in. There was an aura of gentleness and yet bridled strength about the other, as though he was capable of heartfelt compassion and a thousand forms of annihilation. He was spirited, the Owl determined, and that was something that could never be taken away from him.

The silhouettes of the two men were now steadily moving closer to where the Owl was encaged. He shifted his gaze to the blood-scented stranger once again, who now seemed to be surveying him as well. The other drew nearer still, seemingly intent on inspecting the Owl more closely, and the terror of the other creatures intensified.

That was when a sob escaped from the Wolf’s cage, causing the Blood Master to turn abruptly. The Raven flinched, now fearing the worst for the Wolf; it was dangerous to show weakness, and the young pet was an absolute broken mess. He wouldn’t last long in this place- surely not even another day. The Raven and the Owl had both seen this scene play out several times, and still it was just as awful to witness the hundredth time as it was the first.

The man stared at the Wolf for another few moments, then looked briefly over the trailer once again before turning his attention to the Master and gesturing at the cage of his newly desired pet.

“I’ll take this one.”

The Wolf trembled, and the Owl looked on in stunned silence.

_Henrik…?_

The Raven didn’t seem to immediately comprehend what had just occurred; the door to his cage was unlocked, and he was roughly torn from his prison and cast down on the floor. The Blood Man took some coins from his pocket, paid off the Master, and then caught the Raven by his long dark hair, yanking him to his feet. The Wolf raised his head, eyes widening in horror as he realized who had been bought, but the Raven did his best to comply with his new Owner, stumbling along to the door without a word of protest. He briefly locked eyes with the Owl once again, and the Owl felt helpless at the other’s frightened glance, but he stayed silent…they all did, just as they had been taught.

…All except for the Wolf.

“…No…you can’t take him! Listen to me, please, you don’t understand- STOP IT, YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM-“

The young creature had gone from terrified to truly panicked, now throwing himself against the bars of his cage in a feeble effort to break free. He flung himself against the metal again and again, screaming out into the cold night beyond the open door, surrounded by the silence of the other prisoners. The Master simply watched at first, observing the dark welts that were starting to grow upon the other’s bare skin as he harmed himself in his efforts.

After several chilling minutes, the Wolf began to weaken; he slumped forward against his cage, tears streaming down his face as he wept for his stolen companion.

_“Henrik….”_

Not another word was spoken after that- not by the pets or the Master. Calmly, the Master approached the Wolf’s cage and reached through the bars, gently cradling the other’s head in his hands.

_Crack._

The snapping of the young Wolf’s neck was a quick and calculated move. The Cricket held back frightened tears of his own as he watched, and the Bear struggled to fight every impulse commanding him to attack the one who had killed the harmless young pup. Even in the intense silence of the truck, the revulsion, hatred and agony of the creatures could be sensed in a cacophony of quaking and hesitant breaths drawn only out of necessity.

The Master stood still, hands sliding to rest upon the Wolf’s neck. He knew every eye was on him- this was another lesson learned for his pets, a teaching in the consequences of disobeying. He would make sure they understood…he would make sure they never forgot who held greater power.

The Owl watched as the Master stepped back, letting the Wolf’s corpse rest where it had fallen against the cage. Then he was retreating back to the outside, closing and latching the door in place. The creatures were alone once more, now faced with the brutal silence of the Raven’s absence and the burden of their dead friend left among them. The Raven’s hunch had been right- the Wolf didn’t have what it took to survive.

_And the Raven’s poem remains unspoken…._

The Owl sighed mournfully, watching the pale, tearstained face of the fallen wolf. His voice was just a murmur when he finally found the words he’d been searching for, memories of another, kinder time that he hoped could carry the young one’s soul to a kinder place.

“ _…I give the night my final breath. For far too long I’ve been stalling death. I search beneath me, extend my claws. Step out of time, unbound by laws. Given to the wind….”_

The truck rattled to life, the roaring engine threatening to drown out the last words of the Owl’s farewell.

“ _…Sky Burial.”_

The creatures’ journey to hells unknown continued onward.


	2. Sweet Raven Wine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As anxieties heighten and starvation sets in, the Owl and the rest of the creatures struggle to keep their sanity- and their lives.

_ Don’t fear, my pets, for all is well _

_ You’re locked up safe inside this hell. _

_ His body and blood, our bread and wine- _

_ Fight famine cruel with flesh and brine. _

 

It had been three days since the pets had last laid eyes upon their Master...three days since they had been fed. Three days since the Raven had been taken away, and three days since the Wolf’s death. The creatures weren’t feeling as strong as they had with the Raven there to encourage them, though perhaps the most scarring reality they had to face was the Wolf’s body starting to decay among them. He had died with his eyes open, and even now his gaze remained transfixed on the floor, eyes cloudy and muddled. The intense cold had helped some in staving off the deterioration process- still, even when the others closed their eyes to block the disturbing sight from their minds, the stench of death was a wicked reminder of who they’d lost.

The Owl fiddled anxiously, twisting a strand of platinum hair between his fingertips. Hunger had set in for all of them, and they knew it was their punishment. The caravan had stopped a few times and was currently at rest, but no one had returned to check on the creatures...perhaps no one would again.

_ “I heard they did something like this before...they let everyone die_ _,”_ the Cricket whispered to the Wasp, his tone soft and terrified.

_ ”No...we’re their merchandise, they can’t be that fucking stupid,” _  the Eagle muttered in reply, curling his blistered and bloodstained fingertips into his palms.  _ ”We just have to wait this out...they just want to scare us, I bet the Master’s gonna come back any damn minute.” _

_ ”...Is it working? Are you scared?” _

The Eagle shrugged, a glint of bitter amusement apparent in his dark brown eyes.

_ ”Yeah, who the hell wouldn’t be?” _

The Owl was aware of the whispers around him, but ultimately found himself deeply focused on the Wolf. He shakily drew in a deep breath as he looked over the other’s body. The welts and bruises had never had a chance to fade, and he recognized a small tattoo on the other’s wrist- a traditional Norse shield knot, a symbol of protection. The overwhelming tragedy of the young pet’s death became only more apparent to the Owl in that moment, and he closed his eyes, shrinking back into the corner of his cage.

It was only about 10 minutes later that the latch outside slid back, and the door was drawn open.

The imprisoned creatures recoiled in their cells as their Master walked down the center aisle, followed by two other caravan workers. The Wolf’s cage was unlocked, and the suffering pets watched as their fallen friend was taken from them. The Bear glared threateningly at the crew as they carried the young corpse past, but not a single word was spoken, not by the pets or their captors; then the door was closed, and all was silent once more.

The Owl did not open his eyes. He wouldn’t- no, absolutely could not. He knew if he looked to that emptied cage, the sorrow and hatred he felt would finally break free in a flood of tears and furious screams. In agonizing darkness, he listened to the ragged breaths and occasional whimpers of the other creatures. He imagined the Wolf’s body discarded in the snow and starving wildlife finding and feeding upon him, rats and vultures and wild dogs feasting on his bones. Then he imagined the rodents eating away at his own insides, tearing into his stomach as his starvation grew stronger. Still surrounded by the smell of rot and mind running rampant, the Owl could imagine how they would all die- bound in chains, trapped in crates, starved and beaten and ravaged and thrown to the unforgiving wilderness when there was no life left in them to ruin or take away.

_ And the Raven.... _

Perhaps the most awful thing for the Owl was not knowing Henrik’s fate, only picturing in his mind how the other had perished at the hands of the Blood Man. He dreamed of cold steel blades and medieval torture devices, teeth sinking into skin and the taste of warm blood, sweet raven wine, passing over the torturer’s tongue. He felt certain that if the Raven was still alive, he was within his final hours; the House of Eternal Abandon at least had reason to try to keep most of them alive, but life had little value in this time, and there was often more pleasure found in killing than mercy.

The Owl felt sickened and even more intensely claustrophobic as every fear came to prey on him in the small, dark space of his cage. The hours crawled slowly by as visions of depravity tried to coax shrieks of horror from the back of his throat, and he pressed his trembling hands to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the primal urge to release his fury and terror in a barrage of helpless screams.

The Owl couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when a small sense of clarity finally returned to him, but he was abruptly aware of hands reaching through the bars of his prison. To murder him? To take him away?

After another moment, it appeared as though he was not quite so unlucky this time. Large chunks of half-cooked meat heavily seasoned with salt had been delivered to him, as well as the other creatures. The food was a surprise to them all, though surely a sign that they were finally forgiven by their Master; the pets were all quick to start eating the bloody rare steak, falling upon the food in fervent need. The Owl’s fear and hesitance was quickly drowned out by the roar of famine in the pit of his stomach encouraging him to consume.

Barely a thought crossed the Owl’s mind now as he devoured the pile of sliced flesh, surrounded by imaginary birds of prey cawing at his ears in carnivorous glee. The Owl’s current state was perhaps even closer to insanity than his previous panic- he just barely held control over his instincts before, but now all control was gone as the taste of salt, meat, and coppery blood slid down his throat, fueling his hunger even further. This felt like the closest to bliss he could ever be again, finding relief in the kind gift of his stern Master.

The other pets gladly fed, piercing and gnawing, ripping and clawing at the magnificent feast. The Bear was the first to scarf down his food, quickly followed by the Eagle. The Owl’s fingernails worked like talons as he continued to fulfill his hunger, tearing into the remains of whatever unfortunate creature had died to feed them.

That was when he finally rose from his bloodlust, noticing the unusual marking upon his food.

_ ”Blue...representing faith and loyalty, while the black ink represents a new beginning, for Night and Winter herald the coming of Day and Summer. This isn’t the end for you- just the beginning. Keep your faith, young Wolf, the Sun will rise soon.” _

The realization came to the Owl in pieces- recollections of the Raven’s interpretation of the Wolf’s tattoo after the other’s arrival, a friendly and kind gesture to comfort a frightened pet. That symbol of protection that had failed the innocent life, now stained with residue of blood and salt beneath his fingertips.

_ Helvete.... _

All of the wails and cries of consternation the Owl had been just barely able to hold back before were now completely absent from his lungs, but he could hear them in his head, horrific screeches and howls. He dropped to the floor of his cage, clawing at his throat- maybe he could tear those screams out again and find some release, or at least forget the taste of the Wolf’s blood on his tongue by freeing deep burgundy wine from his scarred vessel and following his last meal into eternal death.

The other pets watched the Owl’s sudden outburst in fright; they didn’t know what he knew, but they understood that their Master would take his life as well if he was caught.

_ ”Owl- Christ, what are you doing?” _

_ ”No- fuck, not him too-“ _

_ ”Eagle, you need to reach through the bars and try to catch his arms-“ _

_ “What the fuck, what’s happening to him?!” _

_ “Shit, he’s fuckin’ lost it-“ _

_ “Quiet, they’ll hear us- Cricket, can you help Eagle?“ _

_ ”I know, I’m trying- p-please, Owl, you have to calm down-“ _

The Owl could feel hands slick with blood taking hold of him from either side of the cage, trying to stop his frenzied self-harm; crimson trickled from the fresh wounds he’d inflicted upon himself, but he was unfortunately too weakened to bring about his own demise. His ears were ringing now too, and even as he searched for those who were holding him down, all he could see was blurring darkness above him. Everything was becoming more distant, and he briefly hoped that maybe he had succeeded- maybe this was what death felt like, and he would never wake again from whatever he had done to himself.

_ ”...It’s okay, Cricket, you can let go of him....” _

_ ”...’s not dead yet, poor bastard....” _

_ ”...should’ve let him die....” _

The darkness was absolute now, and the voices further away. Nothing else mattered anymore- the Owl had found a way to escape into himself, disappearing into the cold night without a final farewell.

Though his body remained among the living, his spirit had seemingly found a way to die.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to include a special thanks to Freakshow_Ghuleh for all of the encouragement and keeping me inspired! I hope you all are enjoying this series- there are good things to come in the next chapter, promise. ;)


	3. Welcome Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of his darkest night, he found the other- a beacon of hope, a dimming light he carried home with him.
> 
> *****
> 
> The Owl is delivered from his hell by an unusual stranger, but is the fate ahead of him better or even worse?

_You look like you need a friend_  
_And I’m so tired of having to pretend..._  
_There’s no one here for you to love_  
_My wounded Owl, my mourning dove._

In the Owl’s new home, there was no way of measuring the time...perhaps because time didn’t matter there. Nothing mattered, and everything was beautiful and serene. Sure, this life was unrealistic- but it was just the sort of shelter the Owl desperately needed. He spent his time in the forests he loved as a child, perched in treetops and safe from his fears. He could watch the others from above, hearing the muted murmurs of their voices and observing as they shifted among shadows, but he was existing in a place and time of his own; he didn’t particularly want or need to come down too often, so he let them carry on without him. He had decided it was better for all of them that he didn’t return, so he rested, curled up comfortably in his nest.  
_“He’s not eating....”_  
_”Still? The Master’s gonna be pissed.”_  
_”Bullshit, he doesn’t care- it’s just one less mouth to feed.”_  
_“But it’s been six days...he could die._  
_”Well that’s what he wants, isn’t it? Didn’t exactly work out for ‘im the first time....”_  
Of course the others were anxious; the Owl had been catatonic for close to a week now, and he showed no signs of returning to them. He remained backed into the corner of his cage, blue-grey eyes glassy and rarely blinking as he stared off into whatever imaginary land he had created for himself. In a way it was almost unkind- he’d found a method of escape the other’s couldn’t reach...at least not until they fell as far as he had.  
The Owl dreamed of eternal night and the rush of freedom as he thrived among the snow-capped mountains and barren trees cloaked in frost. He knew this was where he belonged- this heaven was his salvation.  
_“Welcome home,”_ a Raven cawed to the Owl, stretching his sleek black wings- a friendly and inclusive gesture. Further off in the distance, somewhere beneath the skeletal trees, a wolf howled in greeting, and the Raven shook the freshly fallen snow from his feathers.  
_”Stay as long as you wish...it’s nice to see you again.”_

*****

The House Of Eternal Abandon was surrounded by nothingness, distant from the societies and kingdoms that had started rebuilding since the Collapse; it was generally stray travelers or wandering survivalists who stopped to see what the unusual caravan had to offer, while already holding general knowledge of the horrors held inside. It was a common practice these days, the trading of human lives, a cycle in which many were victimized by far fewer individuals of power and wealth.  
The three men that now approached the morbid display traveled with status and riches, and they came prepared with the knowledge of what they would find. This was not the first time the King and his closest advisers had stepped outside the walls of their magnificent kingdom, though journeys of this sort were not discussed with any others, and were kept private among the three.  
The King never knew how to explain what lured him out into the Wastelands- it was a whisper in his dreams, a flicker of a shadow late at night as he slept alone, vague memories of skeletal beings calling to him for salvation in his darkest nightmares. The first time he traveled without a companion, searching for any way to silence the hauntings. He barely understood them himself, and he didn’t expect anyone else to, so solitude was his kindest friend as he wandered further from the grand palace he had deemed his home.  
Then he found Tim.  
The connection that drew him to the other was surely something supernatural, for every murmur and shadow seemed to dissipate when he laid eyes upon the stranger in that horrific prison. This was what had drawn him away from his people- even as his Kingdom needed him, Tim needed him even more.  
Following Tim’s rescue, the King was able to sleep peacefully once again; it wasn’t until over a year later that the shadows returned, rousing him from his sleep. Another soul in need of rescue, he understood, but this time, he didn’t have to travel alone...Tim was a brave guide, and together the King and his adviser and friend journeyed back into the frigid wilderness. They would go on to locate John, another victim of the Collapse, and the King would instantly know that this was fate- this was their shared fate, their destiny. The apparitions faded away as he and Tim led the other home, a symbol that the King had again appeased the mournful spirits that dwelled among him.  
3 years passed. Avatar Country flourished under the heartfelt care of the King and his advisers, and the apparitions rested. In a way the King had managed to forget about them, particularly as greater threats were starting to challenge his kingdom; he kept long hours, discussing strategies with his comrades, then collapsing into deep, dreamless sleep at the end of each day. It was a tiring and endless cycle, but it would soon be broken.  
One night as he slept, the screeching of owls tore him from his slumber. There was no doubt in the King’s mind that this was the work of something more powerful than him- it was the same mystic element that had come to him before, but now it was more intense and urgent than ever, speaking directly to him from the surrounding darkness.  
_Ready your strongest steeds and return to the Wastelands, Wise Ruler, for the Great Owl is perishing._  
It was a message that could not be dismissed, carrying on past night and into the early morning and then afternoon. Even when evening came, the horrid calls continued, and no absinthe or herbs could will them away. The King felt more lost and overwhelmed than ever, the cries of suffering birds going on to surround him at all hours of the day and night. He couldn’t wait one more day- the spirits wouldn’t allow it, so he set off with Tim and John, grim but determined to fulfill the next chapter of his grand destiny.  
There was nothing grand about The House Of Eternal Abandon as it now came into view. John gritted his teeth, and Tim glanced uncertainly to his King, finding a wisp of hope in the other’s presence; both were certainly reminded of their miserable pasts as they approached, but they were glad to travel alongside the One who had saved them.  
“...This is the place, my Lord?”  
“Yes, Tim.”  
“And...he’s here. The Owl. You are certain?”  
“Yes, John.”  
The King feared what he would find within the hellish gallery, but simultaneously understood that among the horrors and darkness, there was a flickering light in need of salvation.  
What the King could not yet comprehend was just how magnificent that awaiting light would be.

*****

The Owl was soaring through the calmest clouded night, accompanied by his dearest friends. The Raven soared above him, cawing in absolute bliss as cold winter air filtered through his sleek black plumage, and the Wolf ran along the forest floor below, howling in delight as they chased everything and nothing, lost in simple games of harmless hunt. There were no victims in this game- only three fearless hunters chasing endless freedom, relishing in the solace they’d found together. The Owl was home, and all was as it was meant to be.  
There was no proper explanation for what happened next.  
Perhaps the Owl soared too close to the ground. Maybe he’d been too busy chasing his midnight reveries to smell the terror of the other forest dwellers below as his scarred wings carried him down closer to Earth. Either way, the sudden snapping of clenching jaws around his throat was a horrifying shock, and in another moment, the Owl was on the ground, at the mercy of whatever beast had stolen him from the sky.  
Incomprehensible whispers of fright carried on around the Owl, who had been torn from his cage by his Master. In their confinements, the other Pets quaked. They believed for certain that there was no recovering the broken psyche of their friend, which left them fearing what would happen to him outside the wicked walls of their home.  
Torture...imminent death. The vultures had been circling them all for a while now, though the Owl seemed unluckiest of everyone in that miserable moment. The Cricket buried his face in his hands as he cowered away from the scene, just barely hiding fresh-falling tears. The Eagle bit his tongue, holding back a thousand bitter curses as he blamed himself for the Owl’s fate.  
_...I should’ve let him kill himself...would’ve saved him from a lot more pain._  
None of the creatures could decode the stranger who had purchased their friend; he was clearly war-worn but wealthy, as were many of the individuals that bought from this place. He wore a cloak as dark as night, and was accompanied by two others dressed in similar dark colors. The glint in his steely eyes was unreadable, as was the low but authoritative rumble of his voice, but the Pets were always quick to assume the worst of each person who came in here- it was how they survived.  
The Owl didn’t bother to resist as he was brought to his feet by the two silent men; all fight had left him long ago. Somewhere in his waking dreams, wild dogs were threatening to rip his wings from his body, and in his weary helplessness, he had resigned to them. He was too weak to take even a single step, so he was carried out, followed by his triumphant new Master and the delusional daydreams of his catatonia.  
Maybe it was all another dream...The Owl closed his eyes and waited for everything to pass. With time, he became vaguely aware of a few things- a heavy, warm fabric wrapped around him, the muffled clattering of horse hooves upon snow and frozen earth beneath him, and distant conversation between the three who had taken him from The House Of Eternal Abandon.  
_”What do you suppose happened to him?”_  
_”I’ve seen this before...he’ll snap out of it with time, I’m certain.”_  
_”It’s from trauma, isn’t it?”_  
_”Trauma is everywhere these days...it was likely something worse.”_  
The Owl had certainly seen many cruel things since the Collapse- he could barely remember a time before the fear. The Raven and the Wolf called out after him, begging him not to leave them forever, and he wished he could take flight and return to them, but his wings were so heavy and mangled that there was no chance of escape. His heart ached as he mourned again what he had lost.  
_I’m so sorry...I can’t. I can’t come home._  
The Owl had lost so much, and he knew he was likely to lose so much more in the following hours. If there was a God, he hoped the powerful deity would be merciful.  
_Take me quickly...return me to the innocent creatures fallen before me, and let us thrive together in the Garden of Eternal Night._  
It was one of thousands of unspoken prayers the Owl had sent out into the Universe, a sorrowful pleading for release.  
Soon, metal scraped against metal as heavy iron gates were raised ahead of the dying creature and his Master. All was quiet beyond the gates as the grand kingdom rested under the blanket of night, and the three horsemen and their new conquest approached the magnificent Castle the King so deeply loved.  
_“Welcome Home, Great Owl.”_  
The murmur came not from a hallucination of a fallen friend but from the King himself as he gazed sympathetically upon the half-conscious man he had freed.  
The rest of that night passed in a blur- no, fragments, patchwork pieces the Owl would likely never recover completely. He remembered catching sight of a star twinkling serenely behind light grey clouds. He remembered falling upon cobblestone floors, then being carried once more when he couldn’t gather the strength to stand. He remembered a torch burning on the wall. The soothing scent of incense. A beautifully woven tapestry of the King and Death in an everlasting embrace. He was still frightened, but the darkness that continued to ease in brought him slight comfort.  
_Close your eyes. Rest. This is your new home._  
The Owl caught one last glimpse of solemn blue eyes lined with heavy charcoal black before passing out.


	4. Somewhere Safe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Owl has been freed from the House of Eternal Abandon...however, it comes to his new Master’s attention that something dark may have followed him out of the prison he once called home.

_Home is somewhere out there,_  
_Somewhere you’ll be safe-_  
_Your time has come to rise, great Owl,_  
_So do not lose your faith._

For three long days, the Owl faded in and out of consciousness. In the few fleeting moments when he was awake, he was barely aware of his surroundings- sometimes it was a voice that called him from his sleep, sometimes a brief, sharp stinging in his arm. He felt warm and comfortable where he rested, clothed in soft fabric and tucked beneath warm blankets; still if he had the strength, there would be no doubt he would try to flee. Through the haze, he occasionally caught sight of strangers- some dressed in white, and another figure cloaked in crimson. They were just passing shadows though, blurred reflections of wraiths drifting through the Owl’s weary existence. In his delirium, he couldn’t even try to comprehend where he was- rather, he could only count on his prior experiences and beliefs to guide him, almost all of which had been built upon terror and a desperate will to live.  
_You’ve been delivered from one Master to another...you’re no more free here and now than you were in the House of Eternal Abandon. You must leave as soon as you can._  
It was now the fourth day, and the Owl was already concocting various methods of escape. He hadn’t yet spoken a single word to his new captors- at this point he either carefully observed them when they weren’t watching him, or he closed his eyes and feigned unconsciousness when they drew near to him. While this approach seemed to keep the Owl safe so far, that didn’t mean the room was always silent.  
“You’ve seen some hell, haven’t you? I understand, I’ve seen it, too....”  
He was starting to vaguely recognize the men who came in and out of his room; this one was Tim, a soft-spoken but seemingly outgoing man with vivid oceanic blue eyes and long mahogany hair that tumbled over his shoulders in soft, sleek waves. Tim was certainly the most conversational so far, and whether or not the Owl appeared awake and aware, the mustached stranger would converse with him- in fact, it was probably because of the Owl’s silence that he felt so comfortable speaking to him.  
“I know this all must be pretty strange to you- I really do understand what you’re going through. But you’re in a safe place now, understand?”  
Behind closed eyes, the Owl repressed the urge to spit at the other and hiss brutal threats of violence against him. It struck him as almost cruel how he was being treated- this was surely just a method to lure him into a false sense of security, and he swore he’d never trust anyone again. So many years ago he had naively placed his trust in someone who went on to imprison and harm him, and he would not make that mistake more than once.  
The Owl heard movement at the edge of the room, and he finally dared to open his eyes a crack. It seemed the other had turned his back on him- a foolish choice, the Owl concluded as he quietly pushed himself upright, testing his own strength. His current situation was finally becoming clearer to him; a needle had been inserted in the crook of his left arm, and a tube trailed away from the needle to a bag filled with clear liquid hanging from a metal pole. So they’d been drugging him? Of course- that would explain how the last few days had seemed to pass in a foggy blur.  
The Owl unsteadily rose from his bed, carefully pulling the needle from his arm with a wince. He took a slow step forward, than another, watching Tim with quickly blurring vision; his body wasn’t ready for such sudden movement, but the Owl continued to push his limits, driven by his fear- he had to keep moving if he wanted to escape. The other was standing before a small table, preparing...another needle? This one appeared to be some sort of injection, and the sight of this threat caused the Owl to inhale sharply.  
_He wants to poison me...he wants to kill me._  
The Owl hesitated for a fraction of a second, reflexes slowed and muscles still weak; it was now or never, though, and so after another moment he lunged, attacking his captor.  
_”Wh-“_  
The Owl wrapped his arms around the other’s throat and yanked back, trying to choke him out; the blond’s vision was now just a fuzzy blanket of indistinguishable colors and shapes, but he held on as tightly as he could, barely recognizing the sounds of frantic rasping as the breath was forced from his predator’s lungs.  
Suddenly, a painful, pinpoint jab to his left hand distracted the Owl from his attack; with a cry of pain, he released his victim on instinct, and in another few seconds, his entire world shifted sideways.  
_...The needle...shit...._  
He took a few wobbly steps backwards and then collapsed, needle still stuck in his skin; just a few feet away from him on the cold tile floor, Tim was trying to catch his breath, now watching the Owl with distrusting eyes.  
_”...What the...hell...?”_  
The attack had been a complete surprise to Tim, and he now retreated slowly, crawling towards the door at the edge of the room. He knew the Owl was subdued for now, but he needed to warn the others- he needed to make sure this didn’t happen again, or else the results could be even worse.  
After Tim left, the Owl remained unconscious upon the floor, caught in the absolute emptiness of his drug-induced sleep. There would be no nightmares as he slept- when he awoke, however, that was when he felt certain the terrors would return.

*****

When the Owl awoke, he wasn’t sure what day or time it was, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Did it really matter anyway? There was no way they were just going to forget what had happened- what he had done.  
_...I tried to kill someone..._  
Maybe if he kept quiet and still, every ounce of terror he felt would subside. Maybe he would have no more visitors, and he could die here in peaceful solitude- it would surely be better than whatever they might choose to do to him otherwise. Just as quickly as his will to survive had resurfaced before, it faded again, and he hoped for a quick and painless death.  
_Just like the Wolf...._  
...No. The Wolf had died quickly, but the poor Pet’s emotional suffering leading up to his death was horrific and torturous in its own right. Then the Owl recalled the taste of the other’s blood in his mouth, and that alone was enough to make him briefly fantasize of suicide, until recollections of the others called him back from the edge.  
For the next several minutes, the Owl couldn’t help but think about all of them, the miserable creatures and friends he’d left behind. None of them deserved what happened to them- this wasn’t their fault.  
...For the most part.  
The others didn’t deserve to be in that hell, though the Owl couldn’t help but believe he was responsible for ending up there in the first place. It was his own naive hope, his pathetic innocence that led him astray- he had his own blood on his hands, the blood of someone younger who had unintentionally betrayed him out of pure helplessness and fear. There was no one else to blame.  
As the Owl remained still, his awareness slowly gathered and the awful drug-induced delirium started to pass; however, with his alertness came a new sense- something horrible and lingering at the edge of his bed. He had developed a sort of sixth sense after years in captivity, and now it screamed warnings at him, frantic and helpless.  
He wasn’t alone in the room.  
_They’re really going to make me suffer now, aren’t they...._  
He was afraid to open his eyes, not wanting to alert anyone he was awake- maybe he could fall asleep again, and they would simply leave him alone. Then suddenly-  
“I’m not going to hurt you. Your breathing changed, I know you can hear me...it’s alright, open your eyes.”  
The voice was low and commanding, powerful and yet seemingly kind. That hint of kindness was almost more terrifying to the Owl then- there was no knowing what danger hid behind that gentle tone- but he cautiously obeyed, drawing in a shaky breath.  
He recognized the stranger he had seen cloaked in black at The House of Eternal Abandon, the same blurred figured draped in royal red he had laid eyes upon in the drug-induced haze that had consumed him since most of his time in this new place. But now...  
The Owl was seeing the other clearly for the first time, and what he saw frightened and astonished him.  
_...There’s no way...._  
He was a King. That was the only obvious explanation, wasn’t it? And still the Owl was skeptical to even consider this as a truth, observing the regal stranger with uncertainty.  
He vaguely recognized the other’s eyes- the same expressive blue tinged with tones of sorrow and something a bit more dangerous, lined with smoky black- matching the same intense gaze from the night he had been taken from his previous prison. The King’s dreadlocked blond hair fell to his waist, and resting upon his head was a golden crown.  
“...I know you’ve been through a lot, and you probably don’t want to talk to anyone right now...but I’d like to know your name. I’m guessing you’ve been known as the Owl for a bit too long, haven’t you?”  
The King’s words were quiet but intently sincere, a cautious greeting to his newest rescue. He gently lifted a hand to brush strands of tangled blonde hair away from the Owl’s face, and the creature instinctively trembled.  
“Oh- I’m sorry.”  
The King drew his hand back immediately, both concerned and regretful for the fear he had apparently caused.  
“I am your King now...that means you’re in my care, and I’m never going to let you suffer again. Do you understand me?”  
The Owl blinked skeptically at his new master, unwilling to believe the other’s reassurances. He’d experienced this before- promises of better treatment, trust built and then torn to shreds as a form of twisted amusement.  
“I don’t want your kindness...I want the truth.”  
There was no way of knowing who was more surprised that the Owl had spoken up- the King or the pet himself. His voice was hoarse, weak from lack of use- where he had been before, he’d quickly learned there was no use in speaking up for himself, but now more than ever, he wanted to know what was next- be it merciful or wicked.  
“The truth.”  
The King nodded thoughtfully, a flicker of hesitation crossing his bearded face; his brow furrowed slightly as he considered his next words, his jaw clenching momentarily with concern.  
“The truth...you have been in and out consciousness for close to a week, partially by our doing. You were close to death, and we just wanted to try to spare you from any more pain. It is a choice I now regret, seeing what you did to Tim, but we thought it would be best for you.”  
The Owl’s lip curled with disdain. So he had been right about the drugs...the King’s excuses did little to set him at ease, and he glared at the other, vowing a return to silence.  
The King sighed quietly, recognizing the Owl wasn’t ready to give him a chance just yet.  
“This is your home now...feel free to look around if you wish.”  
He rose, stepping away from the bedside.  
“You’re not a prisoner anymore, Owl. Your time has come to rise again.”  
The Owl watched wordlessly as the King turned his back to leave; a sudden, sickening fire was starting to boil up within him, and he felt his fingers twitch, a low growl threatening to climb up his throat. This sensation was different than the utter helplessness he felt at the hands of his old master, and different than the absolute fear that drove him to attack Tim.  
This time, the Owl acted with blind rage.  
The King was quick, turning as he heard the Owl’s footsteps upon the tile floors- he wasn’t as fast as the vengeful creature, however, flinching slightly as he was shoved forcefully against a cold stone wall. The Owl towered over him, teeth bared and fingernails digging painfully into his arms.  
_”You think you’re so fucking great, don’t you? I didn’t ask for this- I didn’t want any of this, not you or the freakshow or another fucking breath. Do you even know what that’s like? Just wanting to die each day for over a decade?”_  
The Owl could feel the fire growing within him, the rushing of his blood in his ears drowning out all sense and reason. There was no more control- not now that he’d been released from his cage. Every ounce of hate he’d forced himself to swallow down over the years was finally pouring out- he was a man possessed by his brokenness.  
_”Freedom is an illusion- your money is nothing to me,”_ he snarled, holding the King’s gaze without fear. He searched those blue eyes for anything- terror, weakness, any sign of the suffering he had known too long.  
_” I bet you’ve never felt like me- not a single damn second.”_  
The Owl’s breaths were ragged, his heart racing as he waited for the King to say anything- to threaten him, to plead with him, to bargain for his life, just as he himself had so long before.  
He was met with only silence.  
“...You fucking idiot. Do you want to die right here and now?”  
The Owl’s actions were shifting from instinctive to intentional as he leaned closer to the other’s face, pressing a forearm against the King’s throat and waiting to add more pressure. The King made no efforts to fight back, arms resting defenselessly at his sides...an almost disappointing gesture to the Owl. All he wanted was to feel in control for once, to finally be the master instead of the slave. He recognized a change in expressions upon the King’s bearded face, and for a moment, he hoped to finally feel alive again as his prey’s lips parted, forming words that would end up plunging him deeper into despair.  
“I’m not afraid of you.”  
The King’s confession was truthful, and it struck the Owl at his core. He was frozen still, eyes locked on the other as his thoughts clouded up, the flames of rage now surrounded by heavy, hazy smoke. He pressed down on the other’s throat, but by then he found it harder to breathe himself. Even as the King faced death, he defied his attacker’s expectations and demands. The Owl was furious...but more than that, he was terrified. Not of the King, who was now gasping for air just as his royal subject had before, but rather terrified of himself and what he was doing.  
_Who is the monster now?_  
The Owl abruptly released his victim, retreating backwards fearfully. There were no drugs coursing through his system this time, but powers far stronger.  
Regret.  
Self-loathing.  
Abject horror.  
The longing to disappear.  
The Owl fled to the other side of the room and dropped to the floor, crawling beneath his bed in retreat from his sins; in the familiar, claustrophobic darkness, he began to sob.  
The King didn’t leave for close to ten minutes after the attack. There was certainly nothing he could say or do in that moment to free the Owl from the burdens of his brokenness, but as he listened to the other’s anguished wails, he felt gravely responsible for the creature’s misery. He ultimately retreated to his bedroom, hoping the silence of the space would bring him peace...yes, perhaps he would find solace in rest.

*****

The owls were screeching again.  
Their cries for help had transformed since they first came to the King begging for rescue- now they mocked him, circling above his bed as he closed his eyes and attempted to will them away.  
_You could’ve killed him._  
_You should’ve killed him._  
_It’s what he wanted, you fool._  
He rolled onto his side, eyes opening wearily and drifting to the nightstand where his royal crown and dagger rested within reach.  
_You had the blade. It would’ve been so easy...you should’ve given him his way._  
He recalled the attack so vividly- the Owl’s intensity and unbridled rage, the sensation of the other’s hot breath on his skin and the hateful strength that nearly claimed his own life.  
_He was going to kill you, and you did absolutely nothing. Why?_  
This was the question that echoed the loudest in his ears, demanding and lacking a sensible answer. With his knife resting at his belt, hidden beneath his robes, the King could’ve taken the Owl’s life- but he didn’t reach for the weapon once, even as the breath was forced from his lungs. The King had always been a fighter, but something about the Owl had taken away his will to fight; there was strangely no fear in that moment, but instead what he could only think to describe as awe.  
Three soft raps on the door called the King back to attention, and he pushed himself upright, glad to be met with some friendly company.  
“Come in.”  
The door quietly creaked open, and John entered, smiling tiredly when he saw his King. The bruises along his Ruler’s neck weren’t as terrible as Tim’s, but there was no missing the purple and blue markings, spattered like indigo ink across his throat.  
“You look like shit, my Lord.”  
The King couldn’t help but quietly chuckle, shaking his head at the other’s observation.  
“Enough of that, John, did you bring the good stuff?”  
John held up a sizeable glass bottle filled to the brim with amber liquid, then crossed the room, taking a seat beside his good friend on the bed.  
“Tim’s just waiting for tomorrow to say ‘I told you so’...what were you thinking, Kungen? You should’ve let me visit him with you.”  
As John admonished him, the King took the liquor from his hands, and with a quiet grunt, wrenched the bottle cap off with his teeth. John raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object as the blonde threw his head back and began to thoroughly drink up. It was clear the King wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss what all had happened since the Owl’s arrival, but there was a still a conversation that needed to happen- they all knew it.  
“If you don’t want to talk about him, we don’t have to...not yet.” John held a hand out after a few long moments, indicating it was his turn to drink. “We can’t ignore the problem a lot longer, though- it would be foolish to, seeing what he’s gone and done already...”  
Then quieter, more hesitant as his friend continued to drown his sobriety:  
“...Are you sure he’s the one? I mean- you weren’t wrong about Tim and me, but-“  
That was when the King finally lowered the bottle, the look in his eyes quite uncharacteristic- uneasy, even vulnerable- as he finally passed the partially-emptied bottle to John.  
“I...don’t know. I could’ve sworn it, and in many ways I still do.”  
He watched as John took his turn emptying the bottle, his heart heavy and his head worried with a million muddled thoughts.  
“I do believe in him. After I saw him today, I believed more than ever- he’s damaged, but I think he’s supposed to be here.”  
The King reached up, fingertips absentmindedly tracing over the bruises that had been left upon his throat. As he recalled the confrontation, the Owls cried louder, and he eyed the liquor hungrily. Maybe that could put him to rest.  
Lowering the bottle, John recognized the look on his companion’s face, and a slight frown tugged at corner of his lips.  
“Not this time, Jonas...we need you sober. You’re our leader, and you have the best chance of getting through to him...maybe he’ll be in a better state of mind tomorrow, and you can try again.”  
“Because last time went so fucking great?”  
The King was frustrated, but buried beneath his exasperation was a deeper sense of anxiety- a hissing, howling monster that joined in the Owls’ chorus of doom.  
_You’ll never be able to save him- that creature in there, the one that tried to kill you, he’s all that’s left. Do you think he’ll ever be able to love you, worship you, call you his King?_  
John set the bottle on the floor, then straightened up, looking intently into his friend’s eyes.  
“You’ve had faith in him since They called for you to return to the Wastelands. You risked everything once more to find him, and you led him home.”  
He clasped a firm hand on the other’s shoulder, eye contact unwavering with his spoken reassurances.  
“As my friend, and my King, I want you to know how deeply I believe in you. You have the power within you to save him- that’s why he’s here. Do you understand?”  
The King was still uncertain, but John’s words gave him vague peace; he nodded, drawing in a slow breath and then exhaling.  
“Thank you, John.”  
“Anytime...now try to get some sleep, _ja_?”  
He gave his friend’s shoulder a gentle pat and stood, taking the bottle of alcohol with him; as much as that disappointed Jonas, they both knew it was probably best.  
With John’s absence, the King climbed under the warm sheets of his bed, hoping for the kind release of sleep. Distant screams, whether real or imagined, reminded him of what he had to do in the morning- what he’d have to keep working towards.  
_You have the power to save him...that’s why he’s here._  
The King shut his eyes and prayed for slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to look up! This was a longer chapter than I planned, but I hope you guys enjoyed the character development and buildup! Got big plans for future chapters. <3


	5. Like a Bird Flying to the Moon.

_Victim of life, you’re free now-_  
_Breathe the clean air, sweet taste of escape,_  
_A Stranger and Owl to finally awake._

The Owl had managed to find some rest beneath his bed, cowering in the dark from his fears; hours had passed since the King had visited and left, but regret gnawed at the huddled creature, consuming him from the inside out. Since his apparent freedom, he had only tried to destroy lives, to cause pain and terror- had he truly become as wicked as the one who had owned him for so long? He swore he could feel the beast surging beneath his skin sometimes, a repressed entity waiting to roar to life and tear the existence around him to shreds...a wolf in sheep’s clothing, cloaked in his pale, scarred skin in place of wool. Was this amalgamation of battered helplessness and endless rage what he was destined to become? Was this bloodthirsty monster his true identity, assigned to him from the very beginning of his existence?  
_”This isn’t you...not the real you. We both know who you are, and you’re not a monster.”_  
The Raven’s voice called suddenly into the shadows, a gentle and kind melody to the Owl’s ears...surely just a dream, but relieving nevertheless, the image of a friend fallen now returning to bring him hope. The Owl could almost picture the handsome pet beside him as he lay there, imagining a warm, comforting body at his side, protective arms (or were they sleek feathered wings?) embracing him; lyrics he’d written in another place and time lulled him closer to the other.

 _I ask the stars:_  
_Where have you gone?_  
_What's in the next world?_  
_Will we ever meet again?_

 _”Yes...we will meet again,”_ the Raven swore as if hearing the Owl’s thoughts spoken aloud, his promise delivered in a low, breathy whisper as he shifted closer to the one he’d been taken from. _“When the full moon rises above the Northernmost Mountains a third time from this eve, that is when we’ll meet again.”_  
The Owl felt the Raven’s lips suddenly brush against his- an innocent first kiss he had never known once in his life. What he had initially assumed to be fantasy now appeared to be unfolding within his realm of reality, and the Owl closed his eyes, fingers gently tangling in the Raven’s long hair as he felt a different force surging in his blood- not hatred, but absolute desire.  
The kiss was just a momentary escape into bliss- even after all he had seen, the Owl had so quickly forgotten the strength of wickedness over purity. He had been blinded by this encounter, this rare gift of fate that would be stolen from him just as quickly as it had been granted.  
The sickening scent of coppery fluid crashed abruptly over the two in waves, and then the Raven was being dragged out from beneath the bed, captured by strong arms stained with vivid ink tattoos and blood- merciless tendrils attempting to tear him from the peace he had found with the Owl. He fought and struggled against his attacker, clinging to the Owl’s torso as panic kicked in, and the Owl held tightly to his arms, bruises forming beneath his desperate grip.  
_“Don’t let go,”_ the Raven pleaded, his despair and horror growing with every passing second; the Owl was just as terrified, tears starting to stream down his face as he dreaded the prospect of the Raven being taken from him again.  
_”I’m here, Raven, I’m not letting you go- I fucking swear on my life I’ll keep you safe, I won’t let go again-“_  
But they both understood his promises were worthless, just pathetic attempts to deny a greater malevolent entity victory over their weakness. Beyond their hiding place, winged scavengers had begun to caw hungrily, sharpening their talons with wicked laughter as they prepared to feed. The Raven trembled, eyes squeezing shut as his ankles were finally caught and quickly bound in heavy rope; he opened his mouth to try to tell the Owl every word of hope and love he could manage to find among the fear, whispers of freedom and a kinder tomorrow...but as he was at last dragged away from the Owl’s side, only one final, anguished cry escaped his lungs.  
“ _JOHANNES-_ ”  
It was a name the Owl had tried so hard to forget. No, not just a name...an identity. An identity that had once been of importance to him. A naive teenager who walked with his hands tucked in the pockets of his favorite grey hoodie and hesitantly smiled at strangers- an unusual young man with eyes as blue as the midday sky and dreams as endless as the universe. He hadn’t felt pain or loss like the Owl had, he hadn’t yet been met with the absolute cruelty of the world. He believed in humanity, and he believed in good conquering evil, but above all, he believed in love- no matter the circumstances, the trials and terrors, he knew love would eventually lead him home.  
_That foolish fucking child...._  
The Owl buried his face in his hands, drew in a slow, agonizing breath, then screamed. This wasn’t happening. None of this was happening. It wasn’t possible, was it? But the image of a frightened blond teenager drugged, bound and in tears kept invading his thoughts, memories of an innocent life destroyed before even learning fully what it meant to be alive.  
_”...Johannes is dead...you killed him. All of you killed him.”_  
The words escaped the Owl in a low whimper, barely audible above the din of the Blood Man’s lair. The scavengers continued their cackling.  
Maybe this was all one continuous nightmare...perhaps the Owl’s true self was thriving far away in a place of peace and rest, just waiting to wake up, back into kind reality. Perhaps he was still in the forests of his youth, playing and hunting with the Wolf and the Raven- for that matter, maybe the three had never even left their home in the first place, and when his consciousness returned, he’d find himself in the woods where he belonged.  
The screams of the Raven were distant but chilling, nearly drowned out by the sound of flurrying wings and starved beasts finally freed from cages rushing upon their prey. The Owl hugged his knees to his chest, feeble song leaving his lips as he tried to will the horrid sounds of the Raven’s death away.  
_”Never had a dream this lonely, where did everybody go...never had a dream this dark, wake me up- please make it so....”_

*****

 _Helvete._  
The King and his companions stood at the edge of the room, the same place they had been anxiously clustered for nearly twenty minutes at this point. They weren’t sure what to do- to attempt to intervene with the Owl’s delusions or wait for them to pass. The King and Tim still wore markings from their previous encounters with the creature, and John eyed the empty bed warily, flinching with each anguished scream that came from beneath it.  
“...We have to do something, right? I mean...he’s not getting any better left alone, is he?”  
John was also the one to finally break the silence, though the reluctance in his voice served as a strong indicator of the uncertainty they all shared.  
“He didn’t do so well when we tried to be near him,” Tim pointed out, frowning in concern. “We still have to look out for ourselves- if he comes after one of us again, we have to be ready.”  
The King knew he would be the one who’d have to make the final call, but he felt just as lost as his friends. He was, without a doubt, a brilliant leader and fearless King, but the Owl’s fragility was a new challenge to him- a test to his morals and beliefs. The pet was surely capable of violence, just as they’d seen twice before, but it was his absolute brokenness that caused the Ruler’s heart to ache in his chest. This wasn’t the Owl’s fault- he deserved a chance at recovery.  
The Owl had quieted some, reduced to the occasional miserable whine; the King hesitated, then slowly approached the bed, taking a seat on the floor. The others watched, prepared to defend their Lord, but it seemed as though there’d be no physical confrontations this time...only the sounds of the Owl’s mourning and despair escaping from the safety of his newfound isolation.  
_What a sad creature...._  
Should he try speaking to the Owl? Should he sit in silence? The King could feel his own tensions mounting as he sat still beside the bed, gaze occasionally drifting to his two friends waiting by the door. Not a word was spoken- no one knew what to say, so in pensive silence they rested, hearts racing as they wondered what would happen next.  
_”...Never had a dream this lonely, where did everybody go...never had a dream this dark, wake me up- please make it so....”_  
The sudden, soft line of song that interrupted the tense quiet caused the King to jolt back in surprise, his pulse kicking up just a bit faster. Tim and John exchanged glances, Tim’s fingers jumping to curl around the handle of the knife he wore at his thigh- his King might have hesitations about fighting the Owl, but Tim wouldn’t allow the other to put himself in jeopardy. The Kingdom needed their Lord too desperately...they all needed him.  
“Jonas, careful....”  
John’s warning was quiet but stern, and he and Tim watched their King with worry; the blond cautiously lowered himself to the ground, golden dreadlocks skimming the floor as he peered into the darkness. He could see the Owl’s skeletal silhouette crumpled into a tight ball, eyes wrenched shut, and the pain in his chest grew even stronger.  
_”...Let me fix your broken spirit, I know you can let this go...._ ”  
The King’s song was uncertain but gentle, and he reached up, removing his crown before setting it on the floor; it clattered slightly upon the cold tile, causing the Owl to tremble.  
_”...living with these broken wings, how do I fly? I do not know....”_  
The Owl didn’t dare to move, afraid to even inhale as he knew each breath he’d take would only prolong his painful existence. The space was small and the air practically alive with the electricity of their shared anxiety- the Owl’s fear of the King, and the King’s caution of the creature. Still, the King drew in a deep breath, then began to slowly creep under the bed, crawling closer to the Owl with determination. There was no other way to reach the other, he concluded grimly, now within arms reach of the creature; he went still, eyes locked on the wounded spirit that had fallen apart before him.  
“...Why are you afraid? What do you see?”  
The King knew it was a dangerous question, and when the Owl’s eyes snapped open in response, he felt his breath hitch.  
“...He’s torturing the Raven...we have to save the Raven.”  
“The Raven...alright.”  
The King exhaled, deciding to try to satisfy the Owl’s psychological demons for at least a little while.  
_It might be the only way to help him return to sanity._  
“I’d like to help both of you, but I need to know how...can you help me understand that much?”  
It was as though suddenly, finally, the Owl realized the King wasn’t there to make him suffer. He reached out, taking the other’s hands in his own, intent on teaching the King what dark secrets he knew.  
“The Blood Man...he’s the one we need to find.”  
And then it was as if the Blood Man was under the bed with them, crystalline eyes as cold and merciless as a void watching the Owl from over the King’s shoulder. The Owl quaked, gripping the King’s hands tighter beneath the cruel eye of the monster as the scent of blood threatened to wrap around his senses and suffocate him.  
“...He’s as real as both of us...he’s out there, and he’s going to kill the Raven.”  
“Mhm....”  
The King sighed, not so quick to believe the Owl’s ramblings; still, he nodded, trying to prove to the creature that he cared.  
“...When you are better, we can look for him...but we need you to heal first,” he quietly encouraged, his tone sincere. “It might not be easy, but it will do you good to remember and move on...can you do that for me?”  
The Owl was hesitant to agree to much of anything, but there was something about the King that compelled him to nod slightly in agreement.  
“Good...very good.”  
The King felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth; this was a small victory, but he felt certain this signified a change in how the Owl viewed him, hopefully for the better.  
“You must be starving...come, let’s get you something to eat, and if you wish, we can go outside after that.”  
The second half of the King’s offer caused John’s jaw to clench, and Tim quickly recognized his friend’s apprehension. There was a chance that fresh air could help the Owl clear his mind, and still a greater chance he might take the opportunity to fight or flee.  
“...Is it safe for me to come out...?”  
The King was surprised by the soft vulnerability of the Owl’s voice, and for a moment, the pet reminded him not of a feral animal but a naive, frightened child.  
“Absolutely. I give you my word.”  
The King gave the Owl’s scarred hands a gentle squeeze, holding back a slight grimace as he felt individual bones protruding beneath clammy translucent flesh; he’d truly been reduced to little more than a skeleton, and it was only fate’s kindness or cruelty that had brought him this far without letting him perish.  
_Kindness, Jonas. He was brought to you to heal, and you’re finally showing him the mercy he never knew. Fate may not always make sense, but it is a kind being at heart._  
The two finally crawled out from beneath the bed- the King first, gently leading the Owl, who had seemingly refused to let go of his hand for fear of returning to the madness of his solitude. Tim stepped forward, and the Owl recoiled, but the King nodded, signalling the other meant no harm.  
“It’s alright, Owl...Tim is going to lead you to the dining hall, and I will be there with you again in moments.”  
A quiet, uncertain whine escaped the Owl, but after a few moments hesitation, he released his hold on the King, reluctantly leaving the room with Tim. Now with John stepping closer, the King retrieved his crown from the floor, already preparing himself for a speech he’d been expecting to hear since putting himself physically close to the Owl- or as his comrades likely considered, mortal danger.  
“Kungen, you dumbfuck. I let this slide the first time, but are you completely mad? How the hell are we supposed to protect you when you keep falling for that freak’s bullshit? I swear, you’re acting about as crazy as he is.”  
John’s eyes flashed furiously with an incomprehensible storm of emotions, feelings and expressions he generally kept suppressed until rare breaking points such as this one.  
“I swear, if you weren’t our fucking King-“  
“I am your fucking King, John.”  
The room was slowly flooding with the intensity of their wrath- John’s anger and the King’s righteousness clashing in heavy waves of aggression and turmoil.  
“That’s a card you haven’t played in a while, Jonas...you almost had me thinking you were above that by now.”  
“This isn’t about me- not either of us,” the King interjected, his blood beginning to boil at John’s confrontation. “This is about that shell of a life we rescued, that starving, abused, quaking mess in the other room that probably doesn’t even remember what the damn Sun looks like.”  
“ _He tried. To. Kill you._ ”  
“He was just afraid, don’t you get it?”  
“No- _no, you’re the thickskulled idiot who isn’t getting any of this-_ ”  
The sudden sting of John’s open palm crossed the King’s face, and the echoes of his crown striking the floor reverberated through the empty room; John barely had a moment to reflect upon the error in his actions, however, before he was doubled over in pain, the King’s fist armored in ornate jewelry and rings sinking heavily into his gut with furious force.  
“...I am your friend, John, but above all else, I am King- I’m glad to listen to your concerns, but at the end of the day, I have my country and conscience to answer to first. Don’t let yourself forget that.”  
The King gathered his crown and stormed from the room, his face still burning from the impact of John’s strike. As much as he hated the feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, there were issues of greater concern to attend to.

*****

The meal was generally quiet, with no discussion passing between the King and Tim- only occasional glances of shared sympathy as they watched the Owl devour what fresh food they had to offer. The only time the Owl had spoken since leaving his room was to stress the importance of keeping meat off the menu, a term the creature insisted upon as tears threatened to spill down his face; they wouldn’t ask him about this, but instead accepted the reasonable terms without further issue.  
“Where’s John?”  
Tim spoke softly to the King, gaze not straying from the feeding Owl. It was clear something had gone wrong in their conversation, and Tim was testing the waters, trying to carefully determine just how terribly things had gone over.  
“Probably regretting calling me a thickskulled idiot and striking me,” the King responded coolly, an edge of dark amusement slipping into his voice. Tim chewed anxiously on his lip for a moment, carefully choosing his next words.  
“I...didn’t put him up to that, but I did tell him I thought you needed to hear what we were thinking. You have a good heart, but....”  
“Careful, Tim.”  
“...But we- John and I- we come from a different type of place. We know what the Owl’s world is like, and we just don’t want to see you get hurt by him.”  
The King exhaled slowly, finally turning his glance to Tim.  
“Do you remember when I found you?”  
“Of course- I could never forget that.”  
“I was alone then...you were the first one. I risked everything to quiet those spirits, and I brought you home with me.”  
“I was grateful for that.”  
“You were terrified and eager to please your new master,” the King observed quietly. Even though he was trying to prove a point, he still felt a tinge of sadness at the memory of Tim’s first few days with him- endless promises of obedience, offers varying anywhere between slight and profane, even betraying himself by expressing reveries of escape and asking for just punishment for his sins of thought.  
“You were trying to do whatever it took to survive- what you had been practicing since your imprisonment. You were playing a significant role you’d learned in hopes that I wouldn’t abuse you or kill you.”  
“...I didn’t know you then like I do now.”  
“Exactly.”  
The two returned to silence, watching as the Owl finished his meal. After some time, Tim excused himself to go find John, and the King found himself alone once more with the Owl, who now stood and paced over towards a vivid tapestry that hung upon the far wall in the main hall beyond the dining room’s heavy oak doors. His gaze was timid but curious as he surveyed the mysterious scene- one he vaguely recalled first seeing upon his arrival.  
He recognized the King, cloaked in red, but in this image his golden crown was replaced with a delicately woven crown of daffodils; above him, Heaven’s Gates opened, welcoming him home, and below him, the ground had cracked open, the burning embers of Hell wishing to swallow him whole. Caught between these two worlds, the King appeared neither fearful or in awe- with his pallid face serene and majestic even in resignation to mortality, he rested peacefully in the arms of a towering skeleton reaper, the sempiternal being humanity had named Death.  
“...You haven’t feared Death for quite some time, have you, Owl?”  
The King approached the taller blond, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed upon the familiar scene in thoughtfulness. The Owl nodded slowly, reaching out with trepidation to brush his fingertips over the vivid threads, tracing over the wickedly glimmering floor of Hell.  
“...I think...Death is a friend. Someone we knew in another place and time returning to carry us home.”  
“You have seen Death, then...?”  
The King watched as the Owl’s touch drifted over to the edge of the Reaper’s fraying onyx robes, his hand trembling over the silken material.  
“Not with my eyes...but I felt His shadow pass over me many times. I think He wanted me to know I wasn’t forgotten.”  
The Owl hesitated, then turned to look at the King, his voice briefly catching in his throat as he willed himself to confess words he’d rather leave unspoken.  
“...He...was there. When I attacked you. He was ashamed of me...I think for the first time He wished He’d taken me after all.”  
The King was startled when the Owl suddenly reached for him, but this time not to harm him- rather, to gently touch the marks he’d inflicted upon the other’s neck. It was as though the King himself were another piece of art in the creature’s eyes, another magnificent tapestry- but this one had been marred by his fear, rage and doubt.  
“I’m sorry, my King....”  
“...Jonas. You may call me Jonas as long as we are within the castle walls, or Kungen. And I assure you all is forgiven.”  
The King smiled kindly upon the Owl. It was starting to appear as though the creature was warming up to him, and he had one more idea that might help him earn the other’s trust completely.  
“There’s something I’d like to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horrific and traumatic visions? Check.  
> Violence? Check.  
> Romance? Check.  
> Fluff?  
> CHECK.
> 
> This chapter was so much fun to write! Lots of darkness still occurring, but finally some soft moments as well. More to come hopefully soon!


	6. Achtung.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achtung- Danger.
> 
> The King brings the Owl to recall his identity and face his past- however, this action awakens a new form of darkness in both mens’ dreams, and a monster emerges from the shadows, eager to feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ FIRST:
> 
> Assume all tags apply to this chapter- it is without a doubt the darkest and most disturbing one so far, so make sure you’re prepared for the content before proceeding.
> 
> Thanks. (:

_“Sing for me.”_  
_“Ah- sorry, right now?”_  
_Johannes shifted nervously where he stood, arms wrapped around himself for warmth. Just over the older man’s shoulder, he could see the promise of safety, comfort, and a new home, all wrapped up in the curiously bright and vividly decorated series of traveling trailers. The freshly painted scarlet and gold script on the largest truck called invitingly to him, promising a life of freedom and adventure, safe from the horrors of the Collapse._

_House of Eternal Abandon: Potions, Pets, and Peculiarities_

_The 19 year old faltered, his gaze drifting shyly to the snow-covered ground beneath him. He’d been wandering for about four days, and he knew it was only by the kindness of fate that he was here, now, faced with the hope of a new beginning after all he had lost._  
_He drew in a breath and began to sing for the stranger, the words of his song heartfelt on his tongue._

 _“Lay feathered limbs upon the stones-_  
_My severed wings, my broken bones..._  
_I flew through fire and darkness cold;_  
_Here my tale ends - all has been told._  
_Given to the wind..._  
_Sky burial.”_

 _Had Johannes looked up even once, maybe he would have realized that the man’s interest wasn’t in his song. Maybe had he at least thought any of this offer through, he would’ve been able to spare himself over a decade of torture and terror. He finally looked to the stranger again when the other suddenly clasped a firm hand upon his shoulder, grinning in a manner closer to a bloodthirsty shark than human._  
_“Yes...you’ll do just fine here.”_  
_“You mean it? Ah- thank you, truly.”_  
_“Of course! Now, a toast.”_  
_Johannes didn’t even think twice when he was handed the opened liquor bottle, his heart leaping in his chest with joy. The stranger’s words were no more than static to him as his thoughts raced, and he nodded in agreement to the empty sounds, gladly taking a long drink from the bottle when the older man’s toast came to an end. The alcohol was strong, burning and bitter on its way down, followed with a bit of a strange aftertaste as well; this didn’t faze the teenager, however, and he felt himself smiling for the first time in a while. He couldn’t believe his luck...he shouldn’t have believed it, but he hadn’t been given any reason to doubt the man’s offer. Even after he had lost his family, his home, and just about everything he had known, he still saw the world through young, hopeful eyes. This was the start to a new future- he could feel it in his bones._  
_Johannes continued to drink, glad for the warmth the alcohol carried into his bloodstream. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy, but wasn’t particularly alarmed- not until he was spoken to once again._  
_“Kid- you’re looking a little pale, are you alright?”_  
_The stranger’s voice seemed surprisingly further away when he addressed Johannes, speech vaguely garbled as though murmured underwater; Johannes turned to look at him, only to frown when he saw not one, but two blurred outlines of the man before him._  
_“Huh...?”_  
_Something wasn’t right._  
_“Hey, don’t stress it- you’ll be fine. Must be the hunger making you lightheaded, we have food inside....”_  
_Johannes could feel the other’s hands suddenly upon his shoulders, and he blinked, trying to bring his vision back into focus._  
_“...Wait...it’s okay, I’m okay....”_  
_The teenager attempted to take a step back from the trailer and those who had invited him to stay, but the entire world tilted suddenly beneath him; he fell backwards into the cold winter snow, his muscles seemingly useless to him now. He felt a rustle as the bottle he’d been drinking from was removed from his grasp, followed by voices- two of them this time, nearly inaudible beneath the waves of fuzzy frequency that now hummed at his ears._  
_“...He’s a lightweight....”_  
_“...Makes things easier for us....”_  
_The stars twinkled kindly far above, like the light of distant angels promising Johannes safety. He felt himself being lifted into the stranger’s arms, and he dreamed of his soul escaping his body and ascending into the endless night sky to join the fleet of heavenly entities._  
_He would not see the stars again for over ten years._

*****

“The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?”  
The King’s voice called the Owl back into reality, away from the horrors that played out like movie scenes inside of his head. The tapes were worn and glitching after years of being buried, scan lines jumping across sections of images while obscuring faces and some of the more traumatizing clips from the Owl’s memory. He breathed in deeply, drinking in the cold winter air as he forced his films back into the graveyard he’d created for them over the last decade.  
“...Yes...they really are.”  
The King had found a compromise between his initial plans to take the Owl outside and his companions’ concerns; this tower was the highest in the castle, a magnificent spire at the heart of the castle grounds that the King would visit when seeking solace and peace away from the rest of the world. Inside of the tower was a small library, pantry, and a comfortable bedroom, a warm and snug space to retreat to in times of stress; however, perhaps the best part was the balcony that encircled the upper floor- it allowed an unrestricted view of the entire kingdom and its lights far below, and even the shadowy darkness of the surrounding Wastelands.  
“I know the last several days haven’t exactly been easy....”  
The King watched the twinkling night sky, his breath escaping his lungs in pale clouds and fading away into the dark. He knew other thoughts preoccupied the Owl’s mind by his pensive silence, and proceeded hesitantly with his line of conversation.  
“...The others are glad you’re here, as am I.”  
Silence from the Owl.  
“They’re worried about you...they just want you to understand we’re on your side.”  
The quiet continued, and the King ran his tongue along his inner lip, anxiously stroking the metal of his piercing.  
“What I said earlier, under the bed...can you remember where you came from? Can you tell me your name?”  
The Owl flinched at the King’s request, not wanting to ever return to that part of his past; when he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper.  
“Does it even matter? I’m not who I used to be,” the pet murmured, an edge of discomfort becoming apparent in his unsteady voice. “I can’t become him again, either. I guess...I’m the Owl now. I can work with that- I can stay him,” he added quietly. “It would certainly be easier....”  
“But is that what’s best for you? For your sanity?” The King turned to look at the taller blond, his tone kind but concerned. “Do you want to be this person forever?”  
The Owl could feel his mouth becoming dry, his voice longing to fail so this conversation didn’t have to happen now.  
“...What I want doesn’t matter...it hasn’t mattered for a long time.”  
The King sighed, finding himself frustrated and saddened by the Owl’s perspective on living.  
“You’re not in that place anymore, and I can promise you I won’t let you return there.”  
The silence that settled again was more tense than before, their shared anxiety like crackling static between them. The King watched the Owl’s face in the dark, those wide blue eyes of his seeming to hardly comprehend the night sky; his mind was clearly a thousand miles away, probably someplace unpleasant at kindest, hellish at worst.  
“...Feel free to stay out here as long as you like. You can sleep within the tower, and I’ll return in the morning to check on you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me or the others...though I’d probably be your best bet.”  
_Especially since John and Tim might still be watching for a reason to stab you._  
The King turned and retreated back into the tower, stepping beneath the stone doorframe and entering the bedroom. He heard movement behind him as the Owl followed, and his jaw clenched as he recalled the last time he’d found himself being followed by the unpredictable beast.  
“If you’re thinking of attacking me again, I’m not going to take it as kindly as I did the first time.”  
He stopped and turned to face the Owl, only to be startled when the other grabbed his shoulders and tugged him close, their mouths suddenly colliding in a kiss.  
The King froze up, too shocked too immediately respond to his new situation; a mixture of overwhelming emotions and feelings were stirring within him, whispers of passion and shock inviting fantasies both impulsive and shameful, and after a moment, he pulled back, watching the Owl incredulously.  
“...I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you need to stop this right now.”  
The Owl didn’t seem to acknowledge the King’s command, his gaze lowering to the floor as he shifted nearer to his new master.  
”I know why you bought me...why you don’t want the others around me, why you brought me up here. I know why you want me alone.”  
“Stop it, Owl, you don’t have to do this. I know you’re still working through a lot, but I’m certain this isn’t who you are.”  
”I want you to stay- won’t you spend the night with me?”  
“Look, this isn’t necessary- just try to get some sleep, alright? It’ll do you some good to rest, and I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.”  
“My King, please don’t leave....”  
“Jonas is fine as long as we’re- wh- _what are you doing?_ ”  
The King had allowed the Owl to remain close to him, but now the creature sank to his knees before him, hands at the hem of his crimson robes as though daring his Ruler to respond to his animal impulses. He finally looked up again, reaching with a trembling hand to catch the King’s wrist as he softly pleaded.  
“...I...I can make myself useful to you. You don’t have to lock me away, I’ve learned my lesson...I’m yours now, and I understand that.”  
The King was starting to feel vaguely sick at the Owl’s insistence; when he looked down upon the other, all he saw in his eyes was desperation and fear, and sadness struck him deeply.  
“ _Fan_...how many times do I have to tell you, you’re free now!“  
The King hastily kneeled, pulling his hand free from the Owl’s grasp only to catch his arms, watching him intently as he held him still while hoping to keep the other from making any further advances.  
“What you’re doing now might’ve protected you in the past, but it’s not necessary here. Just tell me what you need- let me help you get through this.”  
The Owl was quaking, the expression upon his face suddenly difficult to read.  
“...S-stay...Jonas, please....”  
“I told you, it’s not going to happen-“  
“-Not like that...I’m sorry, I just...really need you to stay...I can’t be alone with my memories right now,” the Owl stammered, his head lowering as his breaths became unsteadier, his thoughts racing along. The tapes in his head were becoming clearer with every passing second, and he squeezed his eyes shut as their contents rushed at him, fragments of scenes playing atop one other, images that never should have been restored.

 _”He’s not unconscious, is he?”_  
_”No, he knows we’re here...he’s just pretending. Isn’t that right, Owl? There- he flinched, he knows what’s happening.”_  
_”Boss...c’mon, he’s a fucking kid, maybe we should just let him go....”_  
_”You’re not the one running the freakshow. Once I’m cold and dead it’s your call, but I say we keep ‘im around a while. You got a fucking problem with that?”_  
_”No, Boss.”_  
_”That’s better.”_  
_Sets of heavy footsteps drew nearer to the Owl, and further off to the left, a door was closed and bolted shut._  
_”Now break him.”_

 _...They killed him...they did this to him. To us._  
Then the Owl was sobbing, falling to pieces again in the King’s grasp.  
“Hey- alright, it’s okay, I won’t leave- everything’s alright now, do you understand me?...”  
_För fan i helvete...._  
Jonas held the Owl close as he wept, the other’s tears warm as they dampened the King’s bruised neck and pooled along the collar of his cloak.  
_”...My name was Johannes...I was nineteen years old....”_  
“...It’s alright now, Johannes...it’s okay, you’re safe here....”  
The King felt absolutely helpless. He had finally reached the Owl’s core, but now it seemed that connection came at a horrid cost; this was surely why he’d worked so hard to disappear inside of himself, to become what everyone else had wanted to make of him. There had been nothing worth holding onto- he couldn’t have survived that way.  
_”...Don’t leave....”_  
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise....”

*****

It had taken about an hour for the Owl to fade, his tears falling to quiet as he fell asleep from exhaustion and sadness in the King’s embrace. Kungen slowly stood, gently lifting the sleeping being; the Owl might’ve been tall, but famine had feasted on him for years, and he was surprisingly light. Jonas carefully placed him on the bed, then covered him in warm blankets; the Owl didn’t even stir.  
”...I can’t remember the last time someone broke my heart as deeply as you have... _din jävla idiot_ , what am I going to do with you?”  
The King sighed, sitting beside the sleeping figure as his conscience wrestled with itself. There was no denying the thoughts that had crossed his mind when the Owl kissed him, the instincts that had roared in his ears, that had urged him to discard all virtue and treat the Owl just as his previous owners had. That was what he knew, what he expected, wasn’t it?  
_You’re his damn savior- you can’t put him through that again._  
The King knew there was a special place in hell for the ones who had tormented the Owl, and had he done what he wished to, he’d be no better than them.  
_Still...._  
No- nothing would ever justify those actions, and the King felt the weight of his sinful thoughts heavy in his chest, like a pitch-black demon clutching his lungs and squeezing. Shakily inhaling, he removed his crown, setting it upon his lap; he then pressed an index finger upon one of the sharpened metal points, increasing pressure until drops of warm crimson ran down the gold, then dripped onto his scarlet robes where they disappeared from sight. He thought of Johannes kneeling before him, begging to please him, and he increased the pressure even more; then the King imagined tangling a hand in the Owl’s silken blond hair as he put the other’s mouth to good use, and he bit his tongue, placing an open palm upon the crown and pressing down, the sharp stinging pain bringing tears to his eyes. The blood flowed faster, and he gasped, finally shoving his royal torture device aside before slipping off the bed and sinking to the floor. He wrapped his bleeding hand in his robe, drawing in heavy breaths as the godforsaken images finally seemed to dissipate from his mind, replaced by the suffocating reality of his agony and shame.  
_You are his fucking savior. Don’t you ever let that change._  
The floor was cold and uncomfortable, but the King couldn’t find the strength within himself to stand; he recalled his promise to stay with the Owl, and conceded to resting at the other’s bedside, like a dog curled upon the floor as his owner slept, ready to defend his companion should shadows of evil men fall upon them. He closed his eyes, the scent of blood following him into his dreams.

*****

The Blood Man was away- the Owl knew this immediately when he opened his eyes, waking into the familiar dreamspace, finding himself once more in the torturer’s lair.  
_“Raven...? Are you still here?”_  
The Owl slowly sat up in bed, turning bloodstained blankets aside as he hesitantly inhaled, the stench of death strong in the small, dimly-lit space. His arms and shoulders felt so heavy, weighed down by rows of feathers that had erupted from beneath his scarred skin; his clothes were gone as well, reminding him of his time in the House of Eternal Abandon, a place where he would always be seen for the animal he was...perhaps this place was similar in its own right. He slowly stood, feet carrying him across white-tiled floors towards the foreboding black door at the edge of the room as his magnificent wings hung limply at his sides, his body too weak to take flight from this circle of hell. Behind the paneling, scavenger birds screeched, and the Owl trembled at the horrific sounds.  
_“...I’m not afraid anymore...I remember everything now, and I’m not afraid. You don’t have power over me anymore- do you understand?”_  
The door creaked open beneath the Owl’s unsteady hand, and the King looked up from his blood-painted throne as the Owl entered his grand massacre hall; it felt as though he had been awaiting the other’s arrival for centuries, frozen in place and time as caged magpies and falcons screamed for fresh meat.  
“...My Owl...you’re looking for someone?”  
The Owl swallowed his fears, nodding as he willed himself to step further into the massive room and draw nearer to his King. Intricate tapestries depicting brutal warfare of man against nature lined the hall, limbs torn from bodies and wings ripped from creatures of the skies. This was their future, now carried into the present- the cycle of destruction and death that would consume their world.  
“The Raven...we have to save the Raven. Can you help me?”  
The Owl stopped before the King’s throne, bowing his head and kneeling before his ruler; the King stood and met the Owl, reaching out to paint a cross of crimson upon the creature’s forehead, baptizing him in the blood of his slain enemies.  
“I can help you, Owl...but you must do your part.”  
Sacrifice- it was a necessity, and still the Owl trembled, drawing his wings around himself.  
“...I understand, my Lord...I will obey.”  
The King’s Disciples stepped forward, their faces hidden behind veils of onyx fabric; the green-eyed Disciple presented an obsidian chalice to his King, and the blue-eyed Disciple granted him a cold steel dagger. The Owl flinched when he felt their hands upon him, but he put forth no struggle as he was led to the throne, a lamb selected for the slaughter. He was positioned facedown upon the ground, facing the throne, his wrists bound to the feet of the golden chair dripping heavy with blood. A deep chill fell over the room, and the King approached his new Disciple once again, kneeling beside the Owl and setting down the chalice; with a single, clean slice, the King cut open his hand, allowing his blood to pour into the empty vessel.  
“Your deepest regrets, my Owl...let me set you free of them.”  
The Owl thought of his every regret- the Wolf, the Raven, Johannes- but among these painful plagues was something stronger, something that stung at the back of the Owl’s throat and tainted every breath he took, poison on his tongue that lingered on like an old friend wasting away.  
“...My song...rid me of my song, so the Raven may be free again.”  
The King felt a sadness in his heart at the Owl’s regret. He set aside the dagger and picked up the chalice, lifting it to the Owl’s mouth, caressing the other’s sweet face as he guided him to drink. Then he lowered the cup, blood dripping from the Owl’s lips as he took the knife once more.  
The biting metal cut cleanly across the Owl’s throat, severing his vocal chords.  
The creature shuddered, gasping heavily as his regrets bled from the open wound; the King lovingly stroked his feathers, painting them in warm crimson. The other Disciples had left them to their shared misery, and now they bled together, suffering for the Owl’s wishes.  
“Johannes, I commend you for your sacrifice....”  
The King leaned down, lips brushing against the perishing beast’s forehead.  
“do you want me to stay?”  
The pet nodded, tears running down his face as he choked on the taste of his own blood.  
The King smiled sadly, shedding his stained robes. With another slice, this one across his chest, just above his heart, he freed his own regret- the regret of allowing the Owl to wound him deeper than any enemy ever could.  
_I wish you were mine._  
The King climbed on top of the Owl, kissing tufts of down dampened with sweat and blood; the Owl’s body trembled as he was claimed by his King, his wrists aching from the ropes as he watched his world fading away with blurring vision. He thought he saw the Raven then, reaching for him through the fog as the King began to tear the feathers from his back with his teeth, keeping him from ever flying again- the King would keep the Owl tethered to this place forever, eternally voiceless and still pleading for his presence. He would make himself the only light the Owl would ever need, the sun, moon and stars, and the Owl would forget about the Raven- he only needed to adore one master, his King and his Light.  
_”If you still had your voice, would you sing for me...? Would my name always be on your tongue, or would you be sharing your song with the Raven?”_  
The King thrusted harder, gripping at the Owl’s bound arms; feathers crumpled in his grasp as they were ripped from flesh, and the Owl inhaled sharply, the agony of his perishing near-blinding and all-consuming. Besides the occasional twitch of nerves responding to the message of pain, he was now motionless beneath his master, caught between the realms of his King and his Raven, who waited for him on the other side of consciousness- a whisper away and still just out of reach.  
“...He can’t die here. He can get close- really, he can exist on the brink of death for an eternity if you want him to- but he can’t die here.”  
This voice was unfamiliar to the King, and he looked up to the source, startled by its suddenness; the Blood Man was sprawled out across the throne, gazing down upon the King and the Owl with dark brown eyes and a vaguely amused smirk, a lit cigarette resting comfortably between his slender fingertips.  
“...You’re the one who claimed the Raven?”  
“Look at you figuring shit out.” The Blood Man drummed his fingers upon his thigh, then took a long drag from his cigarette, head tilting in curiosity as he briefly examined the Owl’s pallid face stained with blood and tears. A pity his suffering would be only temporary. The Blood Man exhaled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the creature’s face, visibly entertained as the other began to choke on the fumes.  
“We’re not so different...we’re both leaders, we both know what we want of others. You just need to learn how to take what you want,” The Blood Man explained cooly. He flicked his cigarette aside and shifted, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor with interest glinting in his eyes. As he reclined once more, he slowly dragged the sharpened point of the metal across his tattooed stomach, admiring how large quantities of crimson quickly spilled over his side, drizzling to the floor and mingling with the Owl’s blood.  
“Do you want to be a monster like me, Jonas?”  
The King’s gaze drifted down, and for a moment, he could finally see the madness in his brutal actions; scarlet pooled along the Owl’s shoulders where clumps of feather had been torn away, and the creature soundlessly mourned the existence he’d chosen, facedown in his own draining life force and tears as the King used his body.  
“...I did this for him. He knew the cost, and he was willing to pay.”  
“Wrong, my King. I’m sorry to inform you, but you did this for yourself.”  
The Blood Man’s voice was suddenly flat and cold, almost annoyed at the King’s ignorance.  
“That- that’s exactly what’s keeping you from reaching my level. You aren’t claiming responsibility- now, just look at him-“  
The Blood Man suddenly reached down, grabbing a handful of long blond hair and jerking the Owl’s head upright. The Owl was barely conscious now, barely aware of anything besides pain; his gaze was vacant, as though his spirit had either escaped its physical prison or simply shut down inside.  
“This is what your jealousy looks like...his agony is your release. Beautiful, isn’t it?”  
“No- stop, stop that right now.”  
The King stood, gaze darkening as he watched the mysterious visitor, a being he had so quickly dismissed as fiction before now proving his existence.  
“I could kill you- right now, I could destroy you. Get out.”  
The Blood Man gasped mockingly, then broke down into laughter, amused at the Blood King’s righteousness in the face of his sins.  
“Hey- don’t kill the messenger, your Highness. I’m only helping you understand what you haven’t figured out yet. Besides, like I said earlier- death doesn’t work in this place, remember?”  
A low, threatening growl rose from the back of the King’s throat, but the Blood Man remained unperturbed, pushing back strands of sleek black hair from his face as he continued to thoughtful study the Owl.  
“...Maybe I should’ve purchased him too...although I suppose if I had, I wouldn’t know the joy of your jealousy, or the blissful dream of taking him away from you.”  
“What the fuck is wrong with you.”  
“The same thing that’s wrong with you, Jonas.”  
That was when the King lunged, an angry shout escaping his lungs as he grabbed the other’s throat, prepared to destroy. He was nothing like this monster, this disturbed shell of a human- he would prove that, even if he had to spill all the blood in the world to do so.  
“Oh...that’s right, I still have your dagger. My mistake.”  
The Blood Man shrugged, then plunged the weapon deep into his own chest, stealing the King’s chance to claim him as well. Blood spilled from his parted lips, his mouth twitching to form a smile as he convulsed, basking in the beauty of his glorious suicide and the King’s confusion and fear.  
_”What the fuck-“_  
Jonas stumbled back, heart pounding heavily in his bleeding chest. He’d had enough of this dream- all control had slipped through his fingers, and what had started with miserable fantasy in waking moments had become abject horror and helplessness in a mind-made hell.  
_“...This isn’t real. None of this is fucking real, I just have to wake up....”_  
The King stood among the two twitching bodies, for the first time recognizing the extent of the gruesome scene. He’d violently killed many in battle, but never had he seen anything so visceral and deeply disturbing as the blood bath before him. He was responsible for this- it was his lust and greed that had brought him to this Inferno, and he was seeing the consequences unfolding before him, the taste of blood bitter on his tongue.  
A slow, quiet hissing of air suddenly caught the King’s attention, a barely audible pleading from the Owl. The wounded creature no longer heard the Raven’s call, and darkness had fallen over his sight; he was completely alone in his lasting final moments, and he was terrified.  
“...I’m here...you don’t have to be afraid, I’m here.”  
Tears stung in Kungen’s eyes as he yanked the dagger from the Blood Man’s chest, freeing more crimson before he dropped to the ground and began to saw at the ropes around the Owl’s wrists.  
“I’m sorry, my Owl...my Johannes. This is my fault, and I’m so sorry....”  
The blade of the knife snapped, the ropes still tightly wound in place; Kungen sighed in frustration and misery, laying down beside the Owl and wrapping his arms around his victim, his beloved pet.  
_”...Wake up...I’m sorry, please wake up now....”_  
Maybe one of them could wake up. Maybe one of them could escape this nightmare. Surely there was a way out, wasn’t there? If they refused to believe in this reality, if they denied it enough times...  
_”...This isn’t real, damn it...I understand now, I finally understand everything, just please let one of us wake up....”_  
But the dream stretched on for several hours, a bleak funeral scene haunted by the distant calls of starving birds and the Owl’s dying breaths. Even the Blood Man had seemed to just barely stay with them, an occasional jerk or twitch of his cold, pale body the only sign of his warning- the truth that Death would not claim any soul from this place, but eternally linger among the perishing.  
Beyond the walls of the Great Massacre Hall, a bell chimed three times. The screeching of the Scavengers fell to silence, and the scent of cigarette smoke twisted off into cold, unforgiving night.  
The King closed his eyes, embracing his Owl, and wept.

*****

The skies were still dark when the King awoke from his nightmares, the scent of blood a haunting reminder of what he had seen behind closed eyes. He pushed himself up from the floor, wincing as he placed weight on his hand- he’d ask Tim to help him bandage that later. Right now, greater concerns plagued him, fears that wouldn’t dissipate until he laid eyes upon the Owl.  
_Johannes...?_  
The King breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he recognized the other’s sleeping form on the bed, motionless as he rested. It was absurd to think the Owl could have been affected by Kungen’s dream, and still the King felt awful even considering he might have dragged the unfortunate creature into that place.  
_”...I will never betray you like that again...I give you my word.”_  
He leaned in, gently placing a kiss upon the sleeping Owl’s face before returning to his place on the floor. In the darkness, somewhere outside the open window, a bird cawed, and the faint scent of cigarette smoke drifted in on the breeze, lulling the King back to sleep.


	7. The Beginning of an End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dream was just that- a dream. But there’s a very real danger behind the blood-soaked nightmare the King and the Owl shared, and the two men both fear and understand the path they must take. For the Owl, to save one close to his heart...for the King, to save his own sanity.
> 
> *****
> 
> This is a bit of a transitional chapter- won’t say too much besides that, but good stuff is on the way!

”I’m sorry, my Owl...my Johannes. This is my fault, and I’m so sorry....”  
The Owl was still upon the floor, ropes holding him in place as he remained captive to his nightmare, ever-suspended between life and death as an endless rush of blood spilled over his tongue and poured out from his throat. He always knew his end would be violent- after the life he’d lived, there was no anticipating any less. Still, as the Owl shakily drew in a breath, he wondered to himself if he really deserved a passing so painful.  
Through the fog, the Pet became vaguely aware of the King attempting to free him, sharpened metal sawing close to his flesh before abruptly snapping. The King sighed in sorrowful defeat, and the Owl’s heart sank in his chest; still, he couldn’t help but feel comforted when the King laid beside him, embracing him in his dying moments.  
_”...Wake up...I’m sorry, please wake up now....”_  
The Owl blinked tiredly, his eyelids stinging as part of him wished to close his eyes forever and fade away...still, another part of him denied that release, and he painfully exhaled, more blood slipping over his lips.  
_I want to wake up, Jonas...I’m trying. I swear I’m trying._  
_”...This isn’t real, damn it...I understand now, I finally understand everything, just please let one of us wake up....”_  
The Owl recognized the King’s words not as a message to him, but a desperate plea to the universe, to whatever god or spirits had allowed them to suffer inside this place. He thought of so many prayers murmured over the years, whispers and cries passing unheard. He tried to breathe again, and his lungs threatened to collapse entirely.  
_Why are you doing this to us?_  
At the Owl’s left, the King clung to his side, now weeping for what he had done to his pet and companion; at the Owl’s right, the Raven held his hand, gently petting his sweat and blood dampened blond hair as the painful hours passed. There was no mercy to be found in the Massacre Hall, only sorrow, misery and shame.  
_”...I will never betray you like that again...I give you my word.”_  
The King’s promise was a hoarse whisper, and still it resonated deeply within the Owl’s thoughts, lingering on as the room’s lights began to slowly dim upon the trio. The Raven had nothing to say to comfort the Owl at this point, smiling sadly as it seemed Death had finally arrived, carrying the scent of smoke and fuel upon his tattered dark robes; the King closed his eyes, placing a final, tender kiss upon the Owl’s lips.  
The stench of gasoline was foul as it spilled over the Owl and his visitors, an accelerant to destroy them and carry them home. The spark of Death’s lighter from the shadows granted the blond relief, and as the flames consumed him, Johannes cried and soundlessly screamed out between blood-streaked smiles and prayers for peace.

*****

The Owl awoke with a start, fingers jumping instinctively to his throat as his eyes immediately scanned the room for any signs of danger. It took him a moment to recall who he was, where he was, and what had brought him to this place; memories of Johannes and the House of Eternal Abandon rushed forward, and the creature flinched, trying to sort reality from nightmare. This place was real, wasn’t it? Not like the Massacre Hall- and still the faint scent of blood lingered in the air, and as Johannes sat upright, he recognized a few droplets upon the bed, appearing almost black in the darkness. He didn’t like how his thoughts felt so helplessly jumbled, his situation ever unclear. Had the visit within his dream been real, at least to some degree? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t think he wanted to know.  
The Owl appeared to be alone then, but the soft sound of slowed breathing at the edge of the bed caused him to tense, heart pounding heavily in his chest. More recollections returned to him- his advances on the King, his pathetic pleadings, his tears as he begged for the warmth and kindness of another human soul.  
_I was out of my mind...there’s no way he’d stay with me, not after what he saw._  
The Owl struggled to gather the courage to peer over the side of the bed, unsure of who he’d find. Perhaps the Raven had returned to him, a reassuring spirit to put his troubled heart ease...or perhaps it was the Blood Man, chest gaping open and shimmering slick with crimson. The Owl shakily inhaled as he finally forced himself to look, then released an exhausted but relieved sigh when he recognized Kungen’s sleeping form upon the floor.  
_He stayed...?_  
The Owl felt torn between anxiety and comfort as he surveyed the sleeping King, still haunted by what the other had done to him in his dream. The King now slept curled up on his side, body folded in as though he were trying to make himself small enough to disappear from existence; his left hand was tangled up in his robe, and his crown rested at his feet, caked in drying blood and overturned upon the floor. The look upon his face was not an expression of peace and rest- with his brow furrowed, he appeared deeply concerned, distressed by whatever played on behind his closed eyes.  
It took the Owl several moments to gather the courage to rise from the bed. He tried to think back to any pleasant and comforting childhood memory, but all he could think of was the woods- they had been closer to family than his own flesh and blood, a place of safety and peace he turned to in times of trouble. There was no way of knowing for certain if his instincts were correct, but as the Owl gathered the blankets off the bed in his arms and paced over to the King, it seemed he was finally doing something right for a change.  
The creature gently spread the blankets over his sleeping King, then carefully tugged the warm fabric over his shoulders; Kungen remained lost deep within his dreams, and the Owl hesitated, then crawled beneath the blankets, curling up close to the other. He didn’t want to think of anyone or anything else that night, not lovers, monsters, victims or murderers...all the pet wanted was to finally find release in the vastness of nothing, to disappear into the night with his breath forever withheld by ghosts of helpless souls who’d perished before him.  
Outside, the wind picked up, and it began to snow.

*****

The King awoke to a heavy chill aching in his bones, the cold of outside clinging like ice to his miserable, weighted soul. He had returned to the Wastelands to ruminate on his sins, dreaming of the purest snow to cleanse him of his blood and remorse. A myth of mysterious origins crossed his memory then, a hymn of sorts shared by the followers of the King and inhabitants of Avatar Country.  
_Winter comes when the King dreams of snow._  
They had faith in their Ruler, in his goodness and might. Surely their faith was not misplaced- it was not luck but destiny that brought him to reign.  
The King shifted, about to sit up, when he was startled by arms catching him, embracing him in the dark. For the first time he found himself fearing an enemy he had never known in his reality, a pale stranger with dark brown eyes and short onyx hair, laughing in the dark as he peeled away his own tattooed skin; the scent of blood and cigarette smoke was overwhelming, stifling, and the King found himself reaching for his dagger just before-  
_”Jonas...? Don’t leave yet....”_  
The Owl, still caught halfway in sleep, held onto the King, feeling warm and safe resting beside the other. The King’s fears began to subside as he recognized the other’s voice, and he sighed, caught between frustration and relief.  
_“...Fan...were you trying to give me a heart attack?”_  
Just outside, tinges of orange were attempting to creep across the sky, smothered by heavy grey clouds; the King knew he’d rested long enough, and still he hated to rise now, leaving the Owl alone after all he’d seen.  
_Or after all you’ve seen, Jonas. You’re still thinking about that dream, and you don’t be alone with those thoughts, do you?_  
The grand hall drenched in the blood of the Owl indeed still haunted his mind, and he tried to assuage his regret, imagining slicing his own throat before ever betraying the Owl again. He wouldn’t deal with this alone- he’d talk to the others, and just maybe they could sort this out together.  
_”I’ll be back soon, promise....”_  
The King gently freed himself from the Owl’s grasp, making sure the blond was comfortable before gathering his crown and hurrying to the steps, already anticipating the many ways Tim and John might react to what he had to tell them.

*****

“You’re my King and my friend, and I love you, but you’re fucking nuts.”  
Despite these words, John’s voice was a bit better-mannered than it had been during their last discussion; the King recognized this, letting the other’s comment slide, offering only a slight glare in return. During their conversation, Tim wrapped the King’s hand in fresh bandages, having washed away the blood without asking any questions- he was concerned to see what his friend had clearly done to himself, but this didn’t seem the time or place for that line of questioning.  
“Do you think it’s possible, though? Even a bit?”  
That was when John chuckled, an unintentional and unreadable expression of whatever he was feeling- doubt, disbelief, anxiety, or maybe all three, the King wondered.  
“After you were led to us and then the Owl by _whatever_ those things are, I wouldn’t be surprised by you seeing anything else, awake or asleep.”  
Tim snickered, but even as he tried to keep the conversation light, another concern plagued him.  
“...I feel like you made no mistake taking us in...but if you don’t know what these spirits want, how can you be sure they won’t turn on you?”  
_What if this is the beginning of something bigger and deadlier than all of us?_  
It was a question none of them wanted to ask, and still they felt it weighing heavily upon them for a few long, dreadful moments.  
“...I think it was meant to be more of a warning...to show me what could happen if I fail them, or you, or whatever greater being exists beyond us.”  
The King hadn’t told them everything, of course- even as his closest confidants, they didn’t need to know how he’d lusted for the Owl in that place, spilling his blood before committing further unspeakable acts upon him. He had told them what they needed to know...who they needed to find.  
“The Raven is real, and so is the Blood Man. I don’t know their names, only their faces- I saw them through the Owl, and I truly believe they’re out there.”  
“And I’m guessing you want the two of us to return to the freakshow and gather some information?”  
The King hesitated at Tim’s response, gaze drifting to the clean linen bound tightly around his wounded palm.  
“...The three of you, actually. I think it would be good for him to do this, and I know the both of you won’t let him be harmed.”  
John’s jaw clenched, and Tim sat quietly in disbelief for a couple of uncomfortable seconds before speaking up again.  
“Ah- are you sure he can handle it, especially so soon? Have you talked to him about it yet?”  
“I’ll convince him,” the King hastily replied, frowning down at his injured hand. “I know that place harbors a lot of painful memories for him, but until he fully comes to terms with what he went through and who he used to be, I don’t think he’ll be able to fully heal.”  
“So you’re essentially making this decision for him.”  
“It’s what he needs, John...I’m certain. I’ll help him understand that, too.”  
Nothing was guaranteed; this they all knew. Still, the King felt sure he could help the Owl- he likely had to if he wanted the visions to go away.  
Maybe the Owl was the ultimate, a blessing from beyond- maybe the Owl was a curse, carrying the torment of a thousand broken spirits upon his brittle bones, meant to plunge the whole of Avatar Country into absolute despair. The King knew they were meant to discover each other, and still he found himself feeling less certain about their roles.  
_Only the Gods know what they want from us._

******

“...You’re sending me back.”  
“With Tim and John. You won’t be alone, and it’ll be the first step to saving the Raven.”  
The Owl wasn’t sure what to think of everything the King had told him. He’d been pacing the balcony of the tower when the King returned to him, promising him the salvation of his friend...a hopeful start that was instantaneously shattered with his following words.  
_Your old master should have all the answers we need._  
The Owl dreamed of taking the Raven into his arms and guiding him to freedom, but he dreaded everything that awaited in his path- the House of Eternal Abandon, the Master, the Blood Man.  
“You don’t know what it was like in there...you don’t know what he’s capable of, what he’ll do to me if I return.”  
The Owl could feel his pulse heightening as he recalled the dreadful prison, and then he started to tremble, already feeling the eyes of his Master upon him once again.  
“He doesn’t have to know it’s you...you’ll be safe with the others,” the King assured the Owl, and still the creature shook his head, finding it increasingly harder to breathe as his frightened thoughts carried on.  
“It’s not your fault that you don’t know where I’ve been...it’s better for you that you’ve never seen my world. But you have no idea, not even the slightest fucking clue, just what you’re asking of me.”  
“I know it’s a lot, but-“  
“No, you don’t know.”  
The Owl squeezed his eyes shut, willing the threat of warm tears away. He could see the Raven behind closed lids, still terrified and suffering at the hands of the Blood Man. Every time the Raven bled, the Owl could practically feel the other’s warm scarlet slick upon his own hands- this was in no way the Owl’s fault, but he knew he was the only one who could make this right.  
“...I...I’ll do it- for him, I will. For the Raven. Not for you, but for him.”  
The Owl turned to retreat into the tower, but the King stopped him, catching the taller man’s wrist.  
“I know you’re afraid, but you are also incredibly brave- I admire you for your dedication,” he remarked quietly, “and I want you to understand you aren’t going into this by yourself. We’re all here for you- we’re going to help you find him, and we won’t let you be hurt.”  
The Owl roughly tore his arm free, his gaze almost dangerous when he looked into the King’s face, his own expression one of fear and distrust. Of course what he’d seen in his dreams wasn’t real, but he still recalled how easily the King had slit his throat, how Jonas had allowed him to suffer for so dreadfully long.  
“...Promise me. Promise me you’ll never let them- no, anyone- hurt me again. As my King, swear upon your throne and all the horrors you’ve ever laid your eyes upon that you’ll never let harm come to me.”  
The Owl’s intensity caused the King’s blood to run cold. He looked intently into the other’s crystalline blue eyes, and beneath the other’s defensive chill, he could see so much pain and fright. The Owl had never known safety, and even as the King knew promises meant nothing in a world so violent and cruel...  
“I promise you, Johannes...I will protect you.”  
The ice melted away from the taller blond’s gaze. Somewhere far away, he swore he could hear the grateful cawing of a creature unbound from fear, and a heavy weight was lifted up from his chest. He inhaled, exhaled, freely consuming the cold morning air, considering his King’s promise; while he still dreaded the journey ahead of him, the Owl believed that he would survive this, protected by the words of the One who had saved him and shielded by his King’s glorious name.  
“...When will we depart?”


	8. Behold the Executioner.

_No longer a victim, yet haunted in dreams,_   
_A wounded Owl struggles to unfold his wings;_   
_Torn between allegiances and worries concealed,_   
_Who can he trust? Which visions are real?_

The first full moon since the Raven’s first visit crossed the night sky, a reminder to the Owl of the trials ahead of him. He’d grown more comfortable with his new companions, and they seemed to be more trusting of him as well, still refraining from asking him any of the sorts of questions he dreaded answering.   
_Are you feeling alright?_  
 _How are you sleeping?_  
 _What’s on your mind?_  
 _Do you want to talk about what you’ve seen?_  
 _Are you afraid of going back?_  
They were respectful of him, the questions appearing upon their faces and behind their eyes but never leaving their lips. Even the King allowed the Owl his space, letting the creature claim the tower as his new residence. The emptiness was at first intimidating to him, but then it was comforting, a safe place he knew he could retreat to when his thoughts and the others’ presence were too much. The Owl had even gotten used to sleeping alone in the tower with time, though there were some occasional nights upon which he’d creep down to the King’s room and curl up on the floor, sleeping beside the One who’d sworn him safety. The Blood Man still visited the Owl’s dreams, and the Raven still tried to comfort the frightened Owl when the nightmares became too horrific, holding his hand in sympathetic silence as the terrors came and passed.   
The King understood the Owl’s reluctance to discuss his dreams- he experienced his own torment each night, the Spirits warning him of what could happen in vague flashes of macabre imagery as he tried to find rest. He wouldn’t admit to John or Tim how much comfort he felt whenever he heard his door quietly open, accompanied moments later by the Owl’s light footsteps crossing the floor; he would always close his eyes and pretend to be asleep in those moments, but soon sleep would find him as he felt more comfortable with the Owl so close to him.   
Tonight, with the Owl’s mission ahead of them, neither the Owl or the King were sleeping.  
Kungen didn’t even bother trying to hide this fact when he heard the door, his gaze drifting to the Owl’s tall, spindly silhouette now lingering at the edge of the room.  
“My King...sorry, I can leave.”  
“It’s alright, Johannes- please, come in.”  
The only light in the room emanated from burning candles arranged upon the King’s nightstand, the scent of lavender lingering with something stronger; this other smell was quite unfamiliar to the Owl, drifting on smoke from a rolled, lit cigarette held between the King’s scarred fingertips.   
“I don’t want to bother you.”  
 _But I don’t want to be alone._  
As the Owl hesitantly approached the bedside, the King shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette and exhaling more sweet smoke into the air.  
“I think the same thing is bothering both of us already...here.”  
The King shifted over, motioning for Johannes to join him on the bed; the taller man was surprised by the other’s invitation, but he gladly settled down beside his King, glancing uncomfortably at the place on the tile he’d normally claim.  
“I spoke with Tim and John earlier...the scouts have already located the House and confirmed its location. We’ll leave in a few hours.”  
The King nodded slowly, his blue eyes pensive as he continued to smoke; his silence was intense, with no words coming to his mind that could possibly put the Owl at ease. Still, he knew he had to try, for all of them and for their mission.  
“You’re most afraid you’ll be recognized when you return to that place, right?”  
“Yes....”  
The King suddenly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, holding the wrapped joint out to the Owl.  
“Hold this for a moment...I have something for you.”  
The Owl obliged, interested in the King’s actions and the odd-smelling smoke carrying away from the hand-rolled cigarette he carefully held for the other. It was different from the tobacco that lingered on his old Master, and different from the notes that hid beneath the stench of blood on a nameless brown-eyed Boogeyman that continued to haunt his worst nightmares. He experimentally brought the joint closer to his face, inhaling the smoke deeply; a soft wave of calm like a blanket slowly drifted over him, and though the properties of the drug were unknown to him, he could start to understand why Jonas sought comfort from it. He took a few more deep breaths, feeling some of his anxieties start to dissipate.  
“This hasn’t seen use for quite some time, but you may feel better behind it.”  
The King had returned to the room with something tucked under his arm, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the Owl.  
“Careful. I’m guessing you haven’t touched that stuff in a while, if ever. Yeah?”  
The Owl looked up when he heard the other, feeling a bit guilty at being caught; he shrugged it off after another moment though, holding the joint out to the King as he joined him on the bed once more.  
“I’ll trade you.”  
The King chuckled, handing over his gift to the Owl; he tried to ignore the pit that had formed in his stomach upon retrieving the old disguise, not too eager to revisit those memories just yet.   
“There was a time when I had to hide...when I had to become someone else in order to do something incredibly difficult. I know what it’s like, and I think this might do you some good.”  
The Owl unraveled the strange material, studying its contents interestedly; the King continued to smoke, and a haze settled gently on the still air as Johannes uncertainly took the black leather gloves first, tugging them on before examining the latex mask.   
“...Being an Executioner doesn’t always mean taking lives...it means executing Justice, whatever that may look like to you. It’s your choice, your free will and discretion.”  
The King watched the Owl’s face for any telling signs of emotion- fear, dread, anxiety. But the creature only appeared to be lost deep within thought, tracing the mask’s eye holes with unsteady, leather-clad fingertips.  
“I don’t know what I’ll do...I don’t know what I want to do,” the Owl admitted, the confession almost inaudible. He could almost feel the power of this new identity humming about the mask like electricity, and it both mesmerized and terrified him.  
“You’ll know...when the time comes, everything will come together. You’ll find the Executioner within you, and you’ll do what you feel is right.”  
The King tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, then reached out, gently tucking strands of long blond hair back from the Owl’s face; this time the creature didn’t flinch away from him, even as smoke drifted into his face, sympathetically intoxicating. His lips parted as he slowly inhaled, tasting the first kind high he’d known.  
“Do you trust me?”  
The King gently took the mask from the Owl’s hands; the creature nodded, bowing his head to his Master and shutting his eyes.   
Jonas worked slowly and carefully, pulling the Executioner’s mask over Johannes’ face. His strong hands wandered over the other’s jawline as he tugged the material downward, and he watched the timid stray he’d rescued transform into a fearless instrument of virtue. In heavy shadows, the Owl’s eyes seemed to disappear, the flickering candlelight only barely illuminating where his lips were freed from the latex. The King’s wounded palm had had time to heal over the last couple of weeks, and still it stung vaguely as it pressed down upon the Owl’s shoulder; his other hand lingered over the creature’s concealed throat, warm, scarred skin now buried beneath unreadable, pitch-black textile. Jonas wondered if the Pet’s jugular pulsed quicker beneath the fabric, if he felt more or less inclined to draw breath from the warm smoky air. In that moment, stinging memories of his previous self-punishment weren’t enough to tear the King away from thoughts of absolute sin, and still he clung to his morality- under the silent gaze of the Executioner, he would strive to maintain his righteousness.  
“...How are you feeling, Johannes?”  
The Owl wasn’t quite sure how to translate his feelings into words then, watching the King’s expressive blue eyes from behind the safety of his mask. In that moment, he felt so many emotions screaming for recognition, gnawing like famished rodents at his tongue as they begged to be released. Yet, even in their urgency, there was no fear among them- no, for once there was something different from the insecurity and anxiety that liked to cling to the Owl in most quiet moments. It was raw and intense, a sensation of absolute strength to the point of unbreaking; it was the rush of ice and snow falling against open fire, bridled destruction and energy begging to be released.  
“I think I feel...powerful. I’m not completely familiar with what that’s like, though.”  
Johannes lifted a gloved hand to his throat, cool leather embracing warmth as he found Kungen’s hand. He clutched it like a lifeline, but he felt more alive than ever now, pulse racing as tried to understand this strange sense of freedom that now whispered into the depths of his soul.  
“Can you tell me, my King...what does power feel like?”  
 _To not flinch at the sensation of your own skin enveloping your frame? To not shrink away at the touch of another?_  
The King reached up with his free hand and set aside his cigarette, his own heart racing faster as he tried to assemble any sensible explanation as he felt so unusually, absolutely weakened by the Pet’s altered presence before him.  
“Power feels like...like there’s no right or wrong, only what you decide. You set the rules, and you could do anything you want with that.” He gazed into the shadows of the Owl’s masked face, and he swore he could almost feel the Executioner’s power radiating from behind the veil. “Sometimes the sense is so strong, it’s like you could decide the fate of the world and everything in it. Other times, just one person...but that scale doesn’t make it any less intoxicating.”  
 _Maybe the intimacy makes it even stronger...._  
As the King quietly mused, the Owl thought of emptying cages of miserable souls, drawing steel across flesh and stealing away the lives of those who had harmed him. He thought about freeing the Raven from heavy hemp restraints stained crimson, and then he was thinking about blood, the scent of salty iron spilling from the throats of the Master and the Blood Man as he returned some semblance of order to his world. He feared and relished in what he saw, and still he knew none of these reveries were guaranteed; it was for this reason he looked intently into his King’s eyes, the words to next leave his lips a solemn but stern murmur.  
“Jonas...if you won’t be departing with me tonight- if there’s a chance that things will go wrong, and if there’s a chance that this moment is the only time I’ll ever know even the idea of power-“  
This time when the Owl kissed the King, he felt no fear- only freedom, soaring in his chest as he swore to himself he would never be a victim again. This was how he would enter fearlessly into the bleak early morning, how he would find the will to defy his doubts and face his demons- through this gift his King had granted him, the blessing of strength.  
Any sense of shame the King might have been inclined to feel before now fell away from the tender moment he and Johannes shared. This quiet instant was sacred, a fleeting but monumental step forward as the two men began to acknowledge the profound murmurs of their hearts- the whispers of desire that had been as determined to bind them as the spirits that had delivered the King to his Owl not so long ago.  
 _”Johannes....”_  
The King exhaled the other’s name, like a prayer drifting off his lips as he resigned his heart to The Executioner he’d created. He believed in the strength of his companions, but his heart couldn’t help but echo the spoken concerns the Owl had shared with him.  
 _if there’s a chance that things will go wrong..._  
Johannes smiled sadly, recognizing the worry behind the King’s eyes.  
“...I’ll do everything I can to make it back. For you.”

”I thought you were doing this for me.”

This voice was the Raven’s, coming from the open doorway; the Owl flinched at the other’s biting tone, abruptly pulling away from his King and tearing off the mask as quickly as he could manage. He was speechless, a traitor caught in the arms of one once christened an enemy, led astray by emotions tangled and distorted.  
“I- you know it’s always been you, before anyone else-“  
“You fucking whore, you’re just _giving yourself over to him._ I thought you were stronger than that.”  
The King watched the figure in the doorway, heart racing faster as he observed the Blood Man in the place the Owl’s Raven stood, a gaping wound in his chest where a knife had once been planted. There was no way this could be real- Jonas refused to believe that there was any tangibility in the presence that now approached the bed, grinning wickedly...until the other spoke again, knowing just the words that would enrage the King.  
“He loved me first. You think he’s afraid of me, but he’s lying. You’re the one he fears the most.”  
Johannes shook his head at the Raven’s unkind words, denying them. The caws of wild scavengers rang in his ears, screaming treachery.  
“No, you know that’s not true-“  
The King was fast, retrieving his dagger and lunging forward abruptly to attack the Blood Man, the evil stranger who dared to speak against his companion. To the Owl’s horror, the Raven collapsed, the blade now piercing his throat enough to bring him to the ground.   
“ _NO-_ ”  
The Owl shoved the King away and dropped to the floor, taking the Raven into his arms with a quiet sob. It had all happened so quickly- unlike the blood-soaked Grand Hall of prior nightmares where time and death stretched on into infinity, the Raven’s death had been shockingly sudden, the man choking and convulsing briefly before becoming completely still. Warm crimson fluid and ragged onyx feathers littered the ground, and the Owl buried his face into the fallen beast’s scarred chest, almost wishing the blade had pierced his own throat instead.  
The King trembled as he watched Johannes mourn the fallen figure they had come to know as the Blood Man, a figure of depravity and persecution now treated by the Owl as a fallen hero struck down in war.  
“...Let go of him, Owl. It’s over.”  
The Owl shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. Henrik’s corpse was still warm, but as his blood continued to ooze forth and dampen the Owl’s hair, his body was slowly growing colder. The Owl struggled with the creature’s absence, his true mission a failure before it had even begun.  
 _”I’m sorry, Henrik...I’m so sorry....”_  
 _Wake up...just make it stop, wake up...._

*****

“Hey- wake up, you’re having a bad dream.”  
Johannes awoke with a start, fresh tears clinging to his face and saturating his pillow; he was alone in his bed, far from his King and the horrors of his nightmares. Tim stood at his bedside, gaze sympathetic- he’d had his share of bad dreams, and he knew there was a chance the Owl would never completely escape those horrific visions whether real or imagined- they always had a way of lingering.  
“We’ll be leaving shortly...John and I will be waiting for you downstairs. Is that alright?”  
Johannes nodded distractedly, reaching up to wipe away warm, salty tears from his pale face.  
“Y-yeah, it’s fine...I’m fine,” he added sheepishly, sitting up and shrugging his covers aside. “I’ll see both of you in a few minutes.”  
Tim still had concerns for his companion’s well being, but he resigned from these worries and turned to leave, closing the bedroom door behind him. Johannes was once again in solitude, left to recover from his fears and gather his strength and courage in the face of the trials ahead. His hand found the nightstand, and he pushed himself up to his feet, warm skin finding contact with cold, smooth latex resting upon the sidetable.  
His heart lurched in his chest at the sight of the Executioner mask and dark leather gloves, resting just beneath his unsteady palm.   
_You know what you have to do._  
The Owl shuddered, exhaled, then grabbed the items and proceeded to gather the rest of his things before hastily dressing. The unknown loomed beyond him, and the uncertain hovered behind him, flurries of the night's memories and a nightmare entwining to create an unsolvable riddle of circumstance. Whatever had occurred was beyond his understanding- it was difficult to even consider without the risk of dipping into madness...  
So he would look to the future, weary but determined to find answers and deliver justice. The Owl didn’t know what was ahead of him, but he knew he had to survive- for his Raven, for his King.   
_But do you think you can serve two masters?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? Life has been a bit overwhelming and certain events may have caused my inspiration to plummet...but to paraphrase the iconic Dr. Ian Malcolm, fanfiction finds a way. ;) I've been surprised to see so many encouraging comments and kudos in my absence, and I can honestly say your kindness and positivity has inspired me to continue this work, so thank you to all my wonderful supporters- I hope you enjoy this latest installment!


End file.
